Ceremony
by ladykirie
Summary: A trip to Italy is not all that it seems- a plot hatches for control of Hellsing involving the Vatican, voodoo and vampires...
1. Chapter 1

Ceremony

Hellsing Manor- The Study- Evening

The gift of a vintage, leather-bound addition of Dante's "Inferno" would have been well received by anyone with a taste for literature and culture. The full bouquet of a dozen yellow roses could have been seen as a lovely gesture of friendship and admiration. Lastly, the hand-written invitation to attend the elite conference of "supernatural" forces in Italy should have been accepted with honour and pride-instead all of these fine things were met with curses-some in German, a few in Hindi and most in good, old-fashioned, enraged English.

"That miserable, conniving, bastard! How dare he! How could he, that , that-." Sir Integra fumed. There were many things in this world that riled her, but nothing could compare to the sheer wrath that a particular person could provoke with his attempts at reaching out to her. Arch Bishop Enrico Antonio Maxwell was the perpetual thorn in her side- it was bad enough that he was an advisory for the past six years of her life, but there was the constant underlying current of _other_ feelings that she dared not even wish to conjure up in her mind. The man despised her, yet made every effort, every attempt; every planed, calculated move to become close to her-it was like being pursued by the suitor from Hell. Integra had soon learned that any time that man delivered a gift, it came with an unbelievable cost. She grabbed the vase of roses off her desk and considered smashing them, when a calm voice quelled her mood.

"You called for me, Miss?" Walter's even tone asked. She paused and looked up at the old man's slightly startled expression.

"Take these, get them out of my sight !," she exclaimed thrusting the flowers into his hands as is they were coiled snakes," I also want a steak- a rare, still bleeding steak for supper and a damn bottle of burgundy-no glass."

"Yes, Miss." He replied, exiting slowly and calmly, attempting not to excite his mistress any further. Integra returned to her desk, where she opened up the bottom drawer and threw the heavy book down into its confines-then slammed it shut. She drew a tense breath and exhaled. Integra peeled off her white gloves and tossed them down upon her desk, then reached into the right top drawer and pulled out a long, thin cigar and gritted it between her teeth before sparking up a light. She inhaled deeply and pushed out a thick trail of smoke and sat down.

"_Keep calm, stay calm-remember what the doctor said about blood pressure-you don't want to _have_ a heart attack before 30…" she reminded herself. _At twenty seven, Sir Integra Regina Wingates Fairbrook Hellsing had accomplished more than some men had in their entire lifetimes, but no matter how mature for her years, or hardened her persona appeared, nothing quite scarred her so much as the thought of emotions boiling up and edging into her heart. The human heart was a funny thing- Integra's was not cold, nor made of steel as some of her critics had proclaimed. She had a passionate heart, a noble, deeply feeling spirit that had to be contained at all times in order for it not to over-rule her head. She loved her family, country and God fiercely- that is why that pulpy, easily mis-lead organ had to be constantly kept in line in order not to jeopardize all those things she held so dear. This … man had found a way to provoke the most awful, horrible reactions out of her, and she hated that he had the power to do such a thing. While it was true that _others_ had a way of creeping into her heart- that was another story all together. She had stopped denying the strong feelings that had been gradually developing for her servant over the years, but now she wasn't quite sure what to do with them….

The young woman sighed and blew a few smoke rings above her head. Ah, battles, paperwork, meetings, weapons-these were all cut and dry things that she could manage; during a conference, you either spoke or listened, in a war you either won or lost, whilst in battle, you were either killed or did the killing, but in love… this was a terrain that she would have to master quickly- her vampire would be joining her for supper in about another thirty minutes.

Walter nearly knocked the young captain over in the hallway-the blooms were so big that they blocked his sight and he plowed right into the man as he was making his way over to the kitchen.

"Hey-watch where you go, Old Man! Want to kill me?" the Captain cried. The butler stifled the 'yes' under his breath and glared at the young man. Suddenly an idea hit him.

"Here- why don't you bring these to Miss Victoria, I'm sure she'll enjoy them." Before he could protest, the cut-glass vase was placed into Pip's hands and Walter patted him on the head before he departed to begin the meal. The Frenchman smiled and took in the heavenly scent of the roses.

"La belle fleures!" he exclaimed. They were perfect roses- sweet, full-bodied and a very pretty shade of pale gold. "Ha, just like my Vic." He laughed. When he attempted to stroke the soft curve of the petals, a hidden thorn pricked his finger, making him wince and pull away suddenly.

He sighed. "Exactly like my Vic…."

Elsewhere- Italy, The Conservatory in the Maximilian Villa

The opening notes of "Carmen" were lovely and passionate- a nice choice of opera to be represented on piano. Sister Marianna's fingers flew over the ivory keys with passion and grace, plucking each note perfectly. Her eyes swept over the sheet music and skipped not a section. The small gathered audience was very pleased with the novice's performance.

"She plays well, don't she?" the Irish priest softly noted, but his companion merely put a finger to his own lips and nodded. The young nun indeed had talent for music and was very beautiful to match. The girl was no more than seventeen and was just entering the holy life from a convent in Sienna. Her musical skills were greatly appreciated , and she was thrilled when asked to assist with the holiday chorus that the orphanage was setting up for the upcoming festivities. As she continued playing, a few strands of light, brown curls peaked out of her white habit, and her dark eyes looked intense while focusing on the notes-a lovely, lovely girl indeed.

"_Perhaps she'll be able to give me a private performance latter on…" the Arch Bishop thought with a slight grin spreading across his face. _Other thoughts raced through his mind as the music continued; the invitation and gifts had been sent to England and he was sure that the Hellsing director had received them by this afternoon. The conference was a mere week away and the final pieces of his little plan were being laid out like a wonderful and intricate puzzle. Soon, very soon, Maxwell would have everything he ever wanted, desired, and craved right in the palm of his hands. The piece concluded and the man rose to salute the concert.

"Brava, Brava, Sister – what beautiful music you make!"


	2. Chapter 2

Shadowplay

The evening was a quiet affair - the staff continued their calm, domestic pace; there had been little supernatural activity after the surge of Halloween and the first dark, frantic weeks of November. When it made its appearance, quiet was a cherished thing in the household. Walter had retreated to his quarters for supper, while the extended family members, Seras Victoria included, had chosen to dine out to celebrate Lord Andrew's successful training. Hellsing Manor took on a peaceful tone, reminding one of a Victorian holiday, for the exception of the young woman devouring her meal with an almost bestial energy at the dining table. Her pale companion looked on with amusement. Normally, Sir Hellsing was so calm and collected; she used the proper cutlery, had extended training in etiquette and drank her Earl Grey with the pinky up. However, when she was agitated, all of that went out the window. Alucard could not help but grin as his master torn into her still-bleeding steak like a Hun. The old Germanic folk-lore of when one wanted strength, one ate blood or raw foods was being put into practice here tonight. She paused mid-bite and looked him directly in the eyes.

"What's so funny?", she asked, a bit of thin blood clinging to her lip. The vampire thought that she looked particularly lovely at the moment. She was all tailored suit, polished and prim, yet underneath, the tigress lurked...

"I find a woman with a healthy appetite very attractive.", he replied . She scowled a bit and chomped down on the pulpy flesh. She chewed, swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin. The bottle of aged burgundy was now at a half-level, and the deadly combination of wine and anger was creating a dull ache in Integra's skull.

"Right now, I don't feel particularly attractive. I feel like I'm going to blow a vein in my head." Integra stabbed her fork down into the steak and let out a frustrated sigh. Slowly, her servant's hand crept over the top of hers. She breathed out calmly.

"When is the convention?" he asked.

"A week before Christmas, but His"Holiness" wants us there a week early in addition to discuss a delicate subject involving bio-chemical technology and its consequences. In other words, what 'moral' chemicals and solvents can we use to kill, without being deemed 'immoral'... I would like to say that I can be exempt from such a conversation, but since I am in a similar line of business, it would be the right thing to partake in it."

"Sounds boring as hell." The creature replied. A shadow of a smile crept over the woman's features .

"Indeed it will be-and I'm going to be in close company of a pompous bore for far too many days. Of course, you and Seras will be attending as well, provided that you can control your temper."

"Can you keep yours in line, my master?" She arched an eye brow and smirked.

"If I 'accidently' slip and strangle him, you will be a dear and pull me off him, right?"

"Only after he stops breathing..." The woman dipped her bread into the blood of her rare supper, and offered the treat to her eager vampire.

"Good boy."

Maximilian Villa - The Study

The paperwork began to pile up at an alarming rate, creating dense towers that threatened to lean over and spill onto the floor. Sister Yumiko sighed and began to separate the various folders and memos into an "IN" and "OUT" section, hoping to create some order in the chaotic place. The Arch Bishop had been keeping up with his paperwork with a furious passion, but cleaning up after himself was another matter. While the rooms of the manor were usually impeccable, it looked as if a small tornado had struck.

The past few weeks had been hectic and with both holiday season and the convention approaching, it would only get worse. However, she could not complain; there had been a wonderful group of young novices that had come from Sienna to aid the chorus and spend time with the orphans. They were all such eager, helpful women who were filled with hope and energy. The little nun smiled to herself as she recalled her own early days of her religious life- feeding the hungry, helping people understand the tolerance and love of Christ, learning to hide the bodies... Well, maybe her training wasn't _typical, _but she had fond memories all the same. A thick manila envelop fell out of her hand, its contents pouring out on the carpeting. She bent down to retrieve them. The woman could not help but to stare at the photos of dozens of young children marked "missing", their eyes gazing out into the void of the viewer. Some were as young as five or six, while others looked like they were creeping into their late teens. One file was from Brazil, another from Mexico, but most of them were from Haiti.

"Poor things," she whispered to herself,"Lord only knows what's become of them. Who knows- maybe a lucky few ended up in orphanages like ours..." A pair of well-polished shoes and black trousers greeted her. She looked up into the smiling face of her fellow Priest.

"Good evening Sistah Yumiko," Father Anderson stated,"Are ya almost done in here? We're going ta be having supper with the children at seven, an' thought ya might like ta join. " The sister gathered up the remaining papers and placed them back in the folder-the priest aided her up with a steady hand.

"Thank you, Father. Will Sister Kathrina be joining us tonight?" The man shook his head.

"No, she has decided that she needs ta go home-the calling's not fer her." Sister Yumiko furrowed her brow.

"She's the second sister to leave the order while here-what in the world is going on?" The priest sighed and turned his eyes downward.

"These are young girls, perhaps they are homesick, or having second thoughts 'bout the life..." his voice trailed off, as if he wanted to further comment, but didn't.

"Hmmph, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and when I wanted to become a nun." she stated with a hint of pride "Young people are so fickle these days."

"Well ya are one strong woman, Sistah."Anderson replied with a grin, "And shall we get ta supper before we're both hungry?" The pair left and made their way down the stairs to the dining hall, but all the while, the nun could not help to think of where Sister Kathrina would go to...

Elsewhere-The Drawing Room

Thick clouds of bluish smoke trailed up from Jacques Le Chat's cigar, making strange shapes drift above his head like visiting ghosts. A half-finished glass of pale yellow wine sat in the palm of his hand, as he clinked a heavy, gold ring against it, making a tiny dinging noise that was slowly driving the Arch Bishop mad, but he dared not say anything. This man was extremely powerful, and unfortunately, extremely necessary. To Maxwell, he was an eyesore sitting there in his tacky, silk suit and loud tie, but he was a guest and deserved the best Chardonnay and imitation civility that the man could offer.

"Can we get you anything else while you are here, Monsieur Jacques?" Maxwell asked, his tone low and polite.

"No- this is good wine, bon, bon!," the man said with a splitting grin, revealing two gold teeth in his upper mouth. "I think that we have all that we need to make your plan come into action. Have you gone over the paperwork-no trails left behind?" The bishop folded his hands on his lap and nodded.

"All the precautions have been taken and we greatly appreciate your services. Your diligence, and the hard work of Miss Angelique will be very well compensated." The man began to laugh and slapped his hand against his knee.

"Ah money, money, money- it's what the Church has always been good at!"

"And your people have always have been good at getting the necessary done..no matter what." He picked up his own glass of amber wine and raised a toast.

"To good business." Maxwell proposed. The man leaned in and clinked the glass.

"Bon, Bon!"


	3. Chapter 3

Day of Lords

_ If you've read "Panic on the Streets of London", then you'll get an idea why Seras is so nervous about various information being disclosed to her mistress. _

It's quite a strange situation to be part of a family; there's a thousand feelings that occur when people, whether related by blood, marriage, or other unbreakable bonds come together and live with one another. There are times when you wish dearly that you didn't have to deal with each other, and other times when it's unbearable not to. The heartstring bind us up in curious ways, far too complex to have mere words define everything.

The Hellsing Household was no exception. Family had been the cornerstone of the organization since its humble beginnings, duty passed from generation to generation. Trust and time had re-connected estranged parties and the core of _bonded _members, in addition to blood-kin had been just as vital. The Dornez family had served and fought alongside the masters as faithfully as any relatives, and as for the vampires...while duty may have called in the form of spells, incantations, and blood, definite emotional attachment was the steel thread that was woven into the fabric of the home.

Seras felt honoured to have gained the trust and praise of the people around her. While it had taken quite a while to achieve the confidence of her mistress, hard work, bravery and dedication had earned Integra's respect. Genuine care and companionship had brought her close to Walter ,while her patience and diligence forged a friendship from Lord Andrew and the rest of his family. The little vampire felt very proud indeed. However, it was the relationships of the two most important people in her life that made her the most insecure and confidant at the same time.

The Captain and his men had come into the organization's forces with a reputation for being ruthless mercenaries. These were soldiers of fortune, supposedly with no honour, only caring for their payment. True, they were unorthodox , but not without positive qualities. While they could be crude, loud and obnoxiously... _French,_ she had been respected by these forgien men more so than by her fellow troupes, some of which still resented her presence greatly. Captain Bernadette had made his feelings clear to her from the beginning, even ones she didn't need to know about quite so graphically, but under his bravado and amorous nature, he adored and respected her. Pip was also wise enough to acknowledge the fine solider she had become, a powerful agent who could handle herself both on and off the battlefield. Her vampiric nature also did not intimidate him, nor defer his affection .

"It's okay,"he had jokingly told her once, "Everybody's something... after all, you could be an American."

Her master's seal of approval had been much more daunting to obtain. There were times that the girl felt that it was impossible to enter his good graces, and live-or die - up to his standards. After all, Alucard was her master, her sire- the creature that had blessed and cursed her in one breath. If it wasn't for him, she'd be a decomposing corpse roaming the countryside right now, or the un-dead mistress of that horrible vampire priest...however, claiming the praise of the Cheshire King took hard labour. It had taken years for the pair to learn to trust one another, work together side-by-side and find faith in each other's actions. The first time he called her by her full name instead of 'girl', he heart felt like it was ready to burst. As much as she wished to deny it at times, she loved and honoured him dearly. It appeared that now, he felt quite the same towards his little fledgling, but recent events had frightened the girl to believe other wise.

While the evening out had been lovely- the extended Hellsing family had included her in their celebration of Lord Andrew's progress at a chic Thai restaurant, her spirits remained a little heavy. Seras pardoned herself early and sought some comfort in visiting Walter upon her return home. Some quiet tea and a few hours of reminiscing over WWII pictures had proven to be amusing and she had enjoyed her friend's company greatly, but a single thought kept creeping into her mind like a tiny spider. The discovery of the roses in her room brightened her mood, but once she settled into sleep, the questions began to crawl again.

The night was dragging into the wee hours of the morning- the clock chimed six, seven, then eight . Seras twitched in her coffin; in just about ten days, she would be sent to Italy with her masters. She would be on top form to protect her mistress from any harm, as well as to represent God, England and the Hellsing Organization.

"_No worries, "she thought,"None what so ever, unless master has been to so kind to share what happened back in October. After all, he can't lie to her, and I've told her all of my feelings, but, oh Lord, if she.. If I ...Ugghhhh...Bollocks! This could be so very awkward. " The return back from the last assignment had been rough; dealing with that witch Bathory was difficult, but she had blocked much of that situation out. Unfortunately, the events of a particular night were re-surfacing and making her question how the master now viewed her._

The edginess claimed her and after a deep sigh, Seras unlatched her coffin and made her way across the hall to her master's chamber.

Alucard's rest was cracked like an egg by the resonance of tapping on his coffin's roof. He gritted his teeth and hoped the annoyance would cease, but instead, it grew louder. He was about to growl a curse at the agitator, when he heard his ward's voice.

"Master?" He huffed and opened the latch, rising up, like a specter. The girl took a few steps back and gulped. She knew how much the vampire hated having his sleep disturbed. Seras put on a brave face. Her master thought she looked like a frightened child-she certainly was dressed like one- in purple, kitten - printed , pyjamas and wide eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked, punctuating the question with a wide yawn bearing a full mouth of fangs.

"I can't sleep." she stated

"I'm too exhausted for stories today, little one. Go back to your room."

"I can't sleep there- may I ?" she gestured to the coffin. Alucard cocked an eyebrow at her request.

"I barely have room for myself in here-besides what will your Frenchman think?" Her eyes pleaded with him. He sighed- she was such a willful brat sometimes."Fine, come on in, but keep me up too much longer and I'll make sure I take it out on your hide." The girl crawled in and settled herself in the small space. The two nestled , nearly nose-to nose, the little vampire not quite sure where to place her hands. Her master gently wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her ear.

"So are you actually going to tell me what's been wrong for the past weeks or must I drag it out of you, girl?" She spoke slowly and softly.

"I've been having flashbacks of what happened in London, the night we killed Annya. " She felt his grip tighten around her, and panic started to creep into her voice.

"I feel like what I did was wrong, horribly, horribly, wrong and now you, you.." she stammered off.

"That I what?"

"That you think poorly of me now, that you think that I'm a...bad woman." She hugged him, but felt ill. Her master stroked her hair and hushed her.

"Why would you think such a thing?' he asked.

"I did things I've never done in my life, I would have never acted that way, but I was weak, I allowed Bathory use me, to hurt you, to hurt our master.." The dam finally broke and tears started to weld and spill out, garbling her voice. "I feel like a whore."

"Shhh, stop being so hard on yourself. You had no way of preventing her schemes, I think of you only as a good, brave and decent woman." Seras continued to weep, her cries growing louder. Alucard sighed. " An emotional train wreck, but a good woman all the same. Now hush , Seras Faith Victoria" He tilled his head up and licked away her bloodied tears with a press of his tongue.

"But, what if Integra finds out-she'll never forgive me. I would never, ever want to hurt her. I want you two to be happy- I would never want to come between that, I-" A slender finger quieted her lips and Alucard breathed a response into her ear.

"I will make sure that what is in the past is past-it will not touch her heart. You meant no harm, nor did I . I forgive whatever transgression-here, perhaps this will convince you. " The creature tore into his thumb with flick of sharp teeth, drawing thick blood. He pressed it to Seras' mouth and she took in the offering, and with it every warm emotion and consoling thought in her master's heart. She pressed down, digging her own canines into flesh, drawing up more of the precious liquid , her little tongue lapping up every drop.

"Greedy, aren't you." he whispered, pulling away his wounded digit. She pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you." The girl twisted the other way and curled her frame like a little spoon- her back and soft curves resting snugly against her master's hips. The vampire embraced her waist and pressed his nose into her hair, breathing in the essences of vanilla , virginity, and the sultry underlying scent of her skin. No wonder the Frenchman was always so _agitated, _she was delicious...

"You're still tense.," he purred, hands ever-so-lightly brushing over her stomach. He could feel the heat rise up off of her cheeks and the quickening of her pulse. "Poor thing, let me help you sleep." His lips nuzzled against the pin-pick markings on the side of his fledgling's neck- a sign of their eternal bond. The soft, wet tip of his tongue teased, causing her to gasp a little, her heart pounding a tattoo. Fang met flesh and she could not help but to sigh and press against him, a low moan rising in her throat. Her fingers twisted into his hair, while his own dug into the firmness of her abdomen; it would have been so easy to dip them lower into sacred territory, but didn't . Her blood, love, loyalty and her very after- life was his, but _that, _he dared not claim. She crescendoed as he penetrated deeper, her blood revealing all of her hidden secrets and fears- and the absolute adoration she held for him. It was lovely, and almost all too much at once.

"_Don't stop, " she pleaded, "please ..." _

The girl shuddered in release against him, and he eased his mouth off her, sealing the wounds and gently kissing the curve of her jaw. Seras breathed a peaceful sigh, and let the darkness overtake her. The vampire, exhausted himself, welcomed the heavy blanket of sleep. After all, being the object of desire was hard , hard work

Elsewhere- Maximillian Villa-The Conservatory

8 A.M. mass had ended and a small group of children had filled the conservatory with chatter and laughter. Their excitement was hushed by Sister Mariana sitting down at the piano and raising her hand to signal the start of the rehearsal.

"Good morning children- are we ready to turn to page sixteen? I know Christmas seems far away, but it will be hear sooner than we know. Alright-let us begin at the top of "The First Noel". She started the piece and the children began to sing the opening lines. From the side of the small stage Maxwell could not help but to have his eyes sweep over the scene; the children had a look of determination on their faces as they attempted their piece. They loved this particular sister and wanted to try their best to please her. Their voices were so pure, so innocent... his gaze fell upon the novice, completely wrapped up in her duties that she was not even aware of his presence.

Father Anderson had come to him the other night troubled by the current discontent of the novices. It appeared that they were leaving the convent and the holy order in droves. What a pity, after all, the Arch Bishop had taken so much time getting to know them and try to introduce them to a deeper level of their faith. (He clearly recalled Sister Lucinda crying out to God at least a half- dozen times that night...what a pity she did not remain in the order.) His less than pure thoughts were brought back into focus as the choir began "Silent Night, Holy Night." the music was absolutely beautiful with the children very much in tune.

"_Perhaps they are thinking of their own mothers and families back home-or what's left of them..I wonder if they even knew their mothers. " he thought. _A light tap on his shoulder brought him out of his melancholy . Sister Yumiko presented him with a huge folder and a perky grin.

"Here are all the responses, Bishop. " The man grasped the paperwork and thumbed through them.

"You'll have the Alliance from Lebanon attending, the Department of Supernatural Affairs from America and our allies from Ireland, courtesy from Father Anderson, and-" She was cut short by Maxwell plucking out a the very response that he was searching for.

"The Hellsing Organization of Protestant Knights. Let's read what the little vixen has sent us." he announced. His eyes skimmed the elegant cream stationary and he could not help but smirk.

"What does it say, sir?", the nun asked. He shook his head and straightened the paper a bit.

" Sir Hellsing will indeed be attending both the pre-conference and the convention-in addition to her vampires." He did not add that the director had added that if he ever sent her roses again she would shove them, piece by piece, down his throat, thorns and all. In spite of the threat the man smiled and remembered a lesson from his own days in the orphanage. When little girls have feelings for little boys and vice versa, they often turned to nasty tricks to show just how much they liked each other, while never admitting to the truth. Adults were seldom changed from their youthful personas. Enrico crumpled the note and laughed-it was going to be interesting waiting for his playmate to arrive-then the fun could really begin.


	4. Chapter 4

Heart and Soul

Words did little to comfort the young woman- her mood was tremendously heavy, eyes mirroring all the worry and doubt her heart contained. It was times like this when the priest remembered what his grandmother had always done to soothe uneasy spirits.

"Have a cup of tea, Sistah Mariana- it'll calm yer nerves." Anderson stated, while pouring a large mug of steaming black tea. "It's pretty strong stuff, but it does the trick. Do you take it with cream, sugar?" The young nun managed a weak smile and added some milk to her drink.

"Thank you so much, Father. It's been such a hard week here. I mean, the children are wonderful and I feel that we've done such good things here with them, but, I-I" she stammered. The man reached out a sympathetic hand and squeezed her knuckles. "I just don't feel that this is the right path for my life to go down. I miss my home, I miss my family and there are so many things there that need to be taken care of..."

"Like what?" Mariana took a sip of her drink and sighed.

"My father and stepmother are up there in age- she has lung cancer developing and she didn't want to tell me because she knew that I wanted to start my training. The doctors say that she's fine-the cancerous tumors have been removed, but I know that anything could happen. It's a lot of stress on my father... They are both such good people, Father Anderson. This woman raised me like her own daughter-she hasn't got any other family besides my dad, and I know it's noble to go out into the world and help those in need, but my own family needs me-what do I do? If I go home, I feel like I'm abandoning God's calling." The girl was now crying, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks. She brushed them away and gazed intensely at the man across the table from her. The priest sighed himself, and folded his hands on the hard wood of the kitchen table.

"I feel that God will understand if you need to go. Perhaps this is the wrong time for you ta be here. Would you consider the calling later in life?"

"That is a definite possibility , but I just want some time to think this over. Also, I'd like to not go before the concert -it would be bad for the children." Anderson nodded in agreement.

"Do ya want to talk with Sistah Yumiko, perhaps she could offer some insight on the subject?" The little nun, smiled and shook her head.

"I think that she might be more adamant about me staying-she seems very proud to be a nun. She's a great woman, but Bishop Maxwell as offered me a shoulder and I will be speaking with him later." A concerned look spread across the face of the priest.

"Perhaps, Yumiko would be a better, safer shoulder than ya think. I will leave that ta you, young lady, I wish you good luck and God bless." He rose, patted her head and silently prayer that a shoulder would be the only thing that Enrico would offer her later on...

Elsewhere-Hellsing Manor, The Parlour

A slender gloved hand caught the lump of sugar mid-drop before it plummeted and landed on the linen. Integra arched an bemused eyebrow .

"Bravo- your talents never cease to amaze me."she complimented. Her vampire smiled and then placed the cube in his master's drink. He then grabbed a few for himself and dropped them in his own steaming cup of B -Positive medical blood. The pair sat in peaceful quiet sipping their drinks and admiring the overcast , drizzling day through the windowpanes. They were quite unaware that they were being watched by two pairs of curious eyes from the corner of the doorway.

"See! What did I tell you? There's love in the air, I knew it all long!" Lord Andrew whispered triumphantly, nudging Walter who merely nodded in agreement. (He had known about his mistress' affections for well close a decade, but didn't have the heart to break the young man's joyful bubble...) While to some outside parties, a simple, calm teatime would have not have raised any questions about the couple's relationship, it was the gradual closeness, the increased care that they showed towards each other that spoke volumes more than any gaudy, bawdy display of affection.

Sir Hellsing usually guarded her alone time, the rare pockets of peace in between heated meetings, labouring over paperwork, or striking at the armies of the un-dead. For close to two years now, Alucard had joined her at tea, supper and especially late at night to assist her with desk work. Recently, the old man caught a few glimpses of un-gloved hands actually brushing against each other, or even entwined, though as soon as the vampire sensed his presence, he let her fingers slip away, assuming a guise of innocence. Perhaps, there had even been a few kisses, but this was only a suspicion. Walter was just overjoyed that love had finally crept into his mistress' heart; it would be good to see her settle into something happy, instead of being alone in her struggles, or even worse, being shoved into some horrible arrangement by some "well-meaning" nobles to ensure an heir and the Hellsing family's "happiness". Not that his mistress would ever let such an indignity happen to her, of course. She was a woman of iron and a maiden of steel-if anyone could put those upper-class twits in their place, it was Integra.

The idea of another generation to care for entered his thoughts and the old man smiled- warming baby bottles of blood in the morning and having little batlings running around the garden... While Walter had never had children of his own, the role of surrogate grandfather appealed to him greatly. However, he was getting ahead of himself-after all, she could get angry and impale him over crumpets. Also, in order to get that family started, wouldn't they have to -??

" Good, Great God in Heaven- I hope she finally gets some and lightens up a bit..." Andrew stated, sort of completing the butler's mental question. Apparently, the Hellsing heir had said that a little _too_ loudly and the creature's sensitive ears picked up the comment.

"So good to see you Lord Andrew, Walter-would you like to join us ?" The butler patted the young man on his shoulder and took off-Alucard was going to be in a rare mood with the teasing of his woman and he was more than happy to let the rake deal with it...

"Sure, sounds lovely." Andrew made his way over to the table and plopped down in one of the empty chairs. His cousin smiled warmly at him and tapped his hand .

"What would you like, sir? Tea, perhaps some coffee?" she asked brightly. Alucard threw the young man a sly grin.

"Perhaps he would like something hot and sweet, hmmm?" the vampire joked. "They say that British fare lacks flavour and passion, but perhaps they just haven't found the right taste... I find it quite satisfying, especially midnight snacks." Andrew gulped.

"Some of your Earl Grey would be smashing." he asked with a thin smile. Alucard poured him a cup and offered the china plate of cookies. "Oh, no thanks-Meena and I have a supper we're attending later. "

"Looks like you're ready to go from now-the haircut's quite flattering." Andrew grinned and ran his hands through his trimmed, blond hair. The olive, wool jacket and cashmere turtleneck sweater fit him perfectly- causal ,but impeccable.

"A contented man always looks good," Alucard stated, "Your wife is a charming lady-very talented too. I heard her play a bit of Bach the other night-quite nice. "

"Thank you- she has several engagements at Christmas, perhaps you would like to join us?" Integra drained her cup and shook her head.

"Unfortunately, we will be in Italy for this _wonderful _convention.."her voice turned a bit sour.

"_Dammit-look what you've done -she was in such a good mood, and you had to go and mention that." Alucard mentally chided ._

"_Sorry-I didn't know that she was so bent about it!" _

"_She threw a fit just the other night about packing for the trip- how could you not have heard her?" _

"_In spite of popular belief, I do try to stay out of my cousin's business- after, all, I have no idea what she , or the both of you could be doing up there in her quarters in the middle of the night and I don't want to find out. Perhaps, if you want to put her in a better mood, you could try -"_

"_Trust me, I'm trying, I'm trying I-"_

"_If she got shagged she'd be a lot sweeter and you wouldn't always look like you want to rip apart something..."_

All of a sudden, Integra set her cup down harshly and glared at both of them .

"You do realize that I can hear your entire conversation..." Both men could only think of one thing -

"_Oh fuc-."_ The mental alarm was cut short by Sir Hellsing threatening to inform Meena of Andrew's perverse nature and having a dull, silver object thrust through her servant's chest rather slowly. The men cleared the parlour quietly and allowed the woman to stew in her own juices.

"I was having a lovely tea and you had to come along and be an ass." the vampire hissed.

"It's not my fault she's so touchy- looks like someone will be on the couch tonight, hmmm?" Alucard grinned a nasty smirk and narrowed his crimson eyes.

"You could be sleeping in a grave tonight, Lord Hellsing-mind your tongue..." he huffed off with a flick of his long coat . Andrew shook his head.

"Damn dramatic exits... "

Later, That Evening- Maximilian Villa- The Guest Quarters

A light knock on the door interrupted Sister Mariana's typing. "One moment.," she called out, completing her sentence and sending off the e-letter. Mariana closed her plush bathrobe tightly around her cheery pyjamas and rose to opened the door. She was greeted by the smiling face of the Arch Bishop.

"Sir!", she stated, surprised, "What are you doing here? I thought you went to bed already." The man gestured to come inside and she invited him in warmly. "Can I get you anything, Bishop? I have tea, a little broth.."

"I merely wanted to see how you were doing-I spoke to Father Alexander today and we are both so concerned about your situation."

"Thank you so much, it's just that this is going to be a hard choice -no matter what I do." Her voice lowered and she leveled her eyes to the floor. A gentle hand lifted her face to the level of the priest's .

"You are not alone, dear. Christ is with you, and you have all of our prayers." The girl smiled and stared into his deep, hazel-green eyes. He was a very handsome man- the features were a little sharp and the nose a bit long, but he reminded her of some of the Botticelli paintings she had seen in the museum. Also, with his light skin and ash-blond hair, he must be Northern Itallian. She wondered just how old he could be- perhaps twenty-five, thirty? Other than her family and the priests, Mariana had little contact with older men, especially this close...

"Have I interrupted you?", Maxwell asked indicating the computer.

"I was just typing an e-mail." she replied. He playfully wagged a finger at her.

"To a boyfriend?" The girl blushed and became flustered.

"No-no-to my stepmother. She's just come through some tests and I wanted to see how she was doing." The man patted her shoulder.

"Relax, I'm only joking. Little One. Though I'm sure that you probably had plenty of boys back home sad to see you leave for the convent."

"No Boyfriend, Bishop- some boys that are friends, but nothing like that!"

"No sweethearts, ohhh, what a pity! Tell me, do you miss your friends? " The girl nodded. Maxwell continued,"Do you miss your home-I've been to your town it a few years back It has a wonderful music school and concert hall-I'm sure that you have visited it, yes?" The girl nodded and smiled.

"I would very much like to teach there one day- they have an opera program for beginners." she beamed.

"You play wonderfully- the other day, rehearsal was superb

the music was full of life, very beautiful ...just like you. " She turned her head, and turned scarlet. He gently brushed a finger across her cheek. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

"I.." the girl stammered, unsure of what to do. She felt warm breath on her ear as he whispered .

" Mariana Domina Louise, you could be such a wonderful nun, such a glorious Sister in Christ. I know that it's hard-there's so much to consider when taking up the habit... you do know that you will have to sacrifice? There are things that you have not even experienced yet, they will have to be cast off... poor, poor girl..." She felt his hands begin to trail down her arms, gently stroking them. The little nun felt heat creep over her cheeks, neck and body. Her heart throbbed uncontrollably, threatening to burst out of her chest. The Bishop's long fingers caressed her chin, sliding downwards, tracing the fine line of her jaw. He could feel her pulse race under her skin-it was maddening, delicious. She was like a little, caged bird, and he the brindled cat. His nose nuzzled the side of her neck and he took in the light scent of her hair.

"Perhaps you should have a taste of the world before surrendering it .." and with that , he placed a light kiss on her cheek, and brushed a finger across her lips, parting them slightly. The girl pulled back, startled by the intimate contact.

"I think it's getting late- I should be going to bed..." The man took a step back .

"I understand- my light will be on for a few more hours if you wish to drop by and...talk about the world." He cast a charming grin and bowed . Mariana closed the door and released a thick sigh.

"Oh God in Heaven!," she panted ."Help us and protect us from impure thoughts..." on the other side of the door Maxwell grinned.

"Amen", he whispered.

Some time later, a soft tapping roused the Arch Bishop from his book and brought him to the door. The poor, little nun was so lonely and merely wanted company in the wolf -hours of the night. She wanted to discuss Carmina Burana . After all, the libretto was written by monks confronting their desires, perhaps understanding the music would ease her heart. The Arch Bishop could not have thought of a more appropriate piece and by four in the morning the young girl had a full concept of the work first hand. Their duet was passionate and unbound, her high notes heavenly , and encore performances were repeated again and again. When she finally fell asleep next to his side , the priest grinned and wondered why he they hadn't discussed opera sooner.

Botticelli- Alesandro Botticelli was an Italian Renaissance painter famed for his lovely portrayals of Classical Mythology in such pieces as "The Birth of Venus", "The Rites of Spring" and dozens of portraits of Italian nobility. Most of his figures are light skinned and fair haired, almost all of them shown in three-quarter poses showing strong, prominent features. He was beloved by the Medechi Family, the patrons of the arts during this period (think late 1400's early 1500's) and everyone from art historians to Andy Warhol have loved his work.

Also known as the Buranna Codex, Carmina Burana is an opera based off of the writings of monks in the mediaeval period. While it includes religious songs and stories, it also contains some of the bawdiest songs about love and sex- lots of cravings for the deflowering of young virgins and drunkenness- and you thought opera was boring!! The texts were set to music in 1847 by Johan Andreas Schriller and re-done in the 1930's after being lost for decades. The opening of the first song has been used for everything dramatic from horror movies to video games... Make a note kids, because it will come into play several times during this story...


	5. Chapter 5

Submission

The Courtyard- Maximilian Villa

A light dusting of snow had covered the stone courtyard making the marble arches and benches sparkle with pale, silver flakes. While not thick enough to create snowballs or other winter delights, the children, especially the younger ones, were fascinated with the frozen droplets that clung like tiny gems on bare branches. After all, some of them were from tropical places that never received winter chill – this was a special occasion. "Papa" Jack- Jacques Le Chat- was out chaperoning a dozen of his own wards from his orphanage. His dark eyes sparkled with zest and his colourful scarf and cap stood out against the pale grey of the morning. The boys and girls laughed, played, and ran up and down the ancient steps, while a few of the teenagers attended to the little ones. A small dark-skinned boy in a red, wool coat clung to the benefactor's side, studying his hands.

"Papa Jack, when I grow up, will I get to wear a ring like that?" the little boy asked. He could not have been more than seven or eight, but his eyes were bright, curious and focused on the bejeweled ring with great intensity. The man laughed, crouched and patted the child on his head.

"If you work very, very hard Paul and save your money, then you get to buy a ring!" He displayed the ruby-encrusted piece at eye-level to the child. The boy pouted a bit.

"But I work very hard now-at school, and in choir. Just the other day, Sister Mariana said I sang better than last week-tre bon!" Jacques admired the whelp's spirit.

"Maybe you can sing even better this week and we will see what happens at Christmas, Yes? I'll talk and maybe Santa will listen. " Paul nodded and grinned. A pair of priests-Father Anderson and the Arch Bishop himself approached them, bundled up tightly in scarves and long pea coats.

"Paul, are you ovah here making trouble for Mr. Jack?" the Irishman inquired good-naturedly. The little boy shook his head.

"No, Father." The priest smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Good boy-run along and play –yer all going have to be at practice in about twenty minutes, so enjoy the outside while you can." Paul darted off to join a group of friends jumping off the benches. Maxwell scowled at the thought of little muddy feet mucking up his carved stone décor.

"Don't be so sour – ya did the same thing when you were little." Anderson countered. After a near twenty-five years of raising and dealing with the man, he knew his mood swings better than anyone else.

"But it wasn't _my_ villa then." the Arch Bishop countered. He turned to Monsieur Le Chat. "Good day-I am sorry to interrupt your morning, but we do have some business to attend to before I go into preparation for my guests. Anderson, I will leave you to aid in the corralling of the children, if you don't mind. "The man nodded and left their company, veering off to the left to a small group of girls playing what appeared to be hopscotch. "Shall we take a walk, sir?" The men began to walk, heading back towards the doors of the villa.

"So, she will be arriving today?" Le Chat inquired.

"Yes, unfortunately she'll have her 'pets' with her as well. I'll make sure those devils are confined to the catacombs. Will you and Angelique be able to have everything ready upon their arrival?" His companion nodded. "Excellent. Oh, and Jack, how did you like your payment?"

" Oh, Kathrina's a lovely girl , Bishop-very sweet, very sexy. I think the Church hoards all the pretty ones for themselves. " he laughed . "She is well and currently at home in my little bungalow in Martinique. I usually like them better _with_ tongues, but I'm sure we'll be able to work things out later on…I'll leave what you need in your study. How we proceed is up to you." Maxwell nodded .

"Right now, let's proceed to the kitchen. A nice hot cup of coffee would be a wonderful idea."

Hellsing Manor-the Master Bedroom-

It was her third cigar of the day-the first one accompanied the shrill sound of her alarm clock going off, the second was after a brisk shower, and the current was poised between pursed lips, the tip being slowly ground to a mashy pulp. Integra had not yet lit it up, and her Aunt Emma gave her a mild warning with the tilt of her eyebrow.

"Integra dear, " she chided, "I know that you're not thrilled to be packing for this trip, but I do not wish to promote your ill habits –take it out of your mouth right now. " While the woman did not like being treated like a child, her relative did have a point. She removed the cigar and placed in her front vest pocket.

"That's better.", Lady Emma said with a smile," Besides, if this Maxwell is as much of a bother as you make him out to be, you may need to save that one for latter. Come on now, back to work." The pair of women continued packing filling up suitcase after suitcase with shirts, ties, trousers, the odd supper-dress, and the ever -necessary socks.

"I'm going to pack a few extra shirts, Auntie. After all, you never know when you might have a spill." Sir Hellsing folded her starched, white shirts and then realized she had forgotten some basics. She turned and started to pull some undergarments from the top of her dresser drawers. While she wasn't fond of them, bras were vital. Integra possessed a slender figure- while she didn't have much, it was nice to keep everything under wraps, so to speak. She held up a simple, pale lace model , when an odd thought crossed her mind.

"_Dear Lord, this wouldn't even cover the Police Girl's bo-" _

"_Not even close- she's a voluptuous little thing-isn't she?" _a husky voice interjected. She turned and saw the sharp smile and shadowy shape of her vampire in her wardrobe mirror . She blushed and quickly tucked the lingerie away.

"Good day Lady Emma, good day my Master." Alucard greeted. The older woman beamed when the creature kissed her hand and grinned warmly at her.

"Good Morning to you, sir. Are you here to help my niece so that this old woman may enjoy breakfast?" she asked. He nodded. "Oh good-I'll leave you two be. " Emma latched the suitcase shut with a snap and exited. Integra busied herself by folding the intimates tightly, as not to draw too much attention to their presence. The vampire glided over and was curious as a cat.

"And how may I be of service to you?" The light scent of lilac potpourri drifted out of the drawer accompanied by the honeyed note of skin. Very nice.

"If you could get my winter coats packed, it would be helpful." She stated calmly."I have the navy pea coat and the leather trench in the wardrobe. I believe there's a wool scarf that goes with the pea coat-please include it." She still felt a pair of eyes upon her as she continued to remove the garments.

"That's a nice one-the colour would go well over your skin tone…" he stated as she folded a cream satin camisole. Integra turned with a bit of pink on her cheeks, and a sharp glint in her eyes. Few people ever got to see just what a Protestant Knight wore beneath her suits…certainly not disappointing in the least. If they were appealing in the drawer, just imagine how much lovelier they would be on the owner..

"Why so shy-it's not like you're wearing it-such Victorian manners.." the creature joked.

"Keep it up and you'll never get to see it on me." He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Is that a threat?" Alucard stepped close to his master, but she deftly turned out of his reach.

"Perhaps, you'd rather see it on your ward-after all, she's the 'voluptuous' one, hmmm?" A hint of a smile played on her lips Her vampire retrieved the coats and grabbed a large, sturdy garment bag from the back of the closet.

"Green doesn't become, you master." He stated as the heavy bundle was placed on the bed."You know that I'm yours in all ways…" The woman looked at him for a moment , then handed off a small cosmetic trunk to be added to the pile. The pair worked in silence for a few minutes before the vampire sensed just how tired and aggravated she was. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her, during a pause in the packing. Integra's hands settled gentlyon top of his, and for a few moments she rested against him. A deep sigh escaped her and he hugged her tighter.

"_I cannot think of any where else I'd rather not go to for the holidays…" she thought. "This is the first holiday I can have with family in almost fifteen years, and instead, duty calls. " _

"_We cannot shirk that, but I will do whatever I can to aid you- Seras, too. We are going into a den of vipers, so the more hands to aid you, the better." She stroked his hand lightly and the vampire could feel her soft warmth even through the gloves. _

" _We will have to have Christmas when we get back." _

" '_We', master?" _She pressed his hand to her cheek and nodded.

"Yes, " she spoke and brushed her lips against his chin. ,"Now back to work, there's a plane to catch."

Elsewhere, Hellsing Manor-The Dungeons

"But I hate having to travel in a coffin –it's so stifling, and I can't bring a snack, or read , nor do much of anything else-it's horrid!" Seras whined.

"So bring some music, take a little nap- have some very naughty fantasies that can be acted out when you get back next week…" Captain Bernadette joked. The little vampire huffed and shot him a dirty look. She continued packing her suitcases , though they already were bursting at the seams. The young man eyed all the clothes and various bits and pieces that strained the poor luggage. There were bags strune on the floor and a huge brown case on the couch stuffed like holiday turkey.

"Vic honey, you'll only be gone a week- not the almost three your master and Boss Lady have to endure. Why not pack light? "

"This is light!" she stated as she shoved a few bulky sweaters into a duffle bag. A little scrap of pink fabric fell out of the front compartment. In a heartbeat, the Frenchman grabbed it as the girl tried to retrieve it.

"Come on, give it back! ", she pleaded. The man grinned and began a game of keep-away. He unfolded the prize and it appeared to be a pair of new knickers- pink and lacy.

"So this is what you wear under those uniforms –damn! "He laughed. Seras flushed rosy and she attempted to grab his hands, but the bastard kept dodging.

"What else do you have in there?" he teased,"Maybe fishnets…something leather?" She stepped close and he grabbed her around the waist. She let out a little squeak like a trapped kitten.

"Soooo," he purred when are you going to let me see you in something like this? Maybe at Noel, hmmm?" She pressed up against him and nuzzled the side of his cheek. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest and breathed a sigh of delight, squeezing her tightly.

"How 'bout when you let me meet your family and get me a nice ring for this finger." She whispered, holding up her left hand.

"In soon time mon ami, in soon time…" He leaned into kiss her, when she pushed, settling him off balance, landing him on the floor rump -first. The sly girl snagged her skivvies and grinned triumphantly.

"For a virgin you're a tease! You fight dirty lady! ", Pip stated, pouting like a hurt child, causing the vampire to laugh. She extended a hand to aid him up.

"All's fair in love and war-you just lost at both. Anything hurt?"she asked.

"Only my pride- meant what I said, though." Seras smiled .

"I know ." She quickly pressed her mouth to his, and for a moment , their pair was content. They broke from each other and glared at the luggage sprawled over the couch.

"Let's get going- Italy's waiting."

Knickers- Underpants, panties or my favourite reference –'unmentionables'. Integra's a practical woman with practical garments-think white, beige, maybe the odd bit of black. Simple, elegant things of cotton or lace, nothing fancy. Seras likes colour- pinks, reds, blues, green-lots of lace and prints.( She even has a pair of Union Jack ones-yeah!) However, no matter how interesting, it's a pity none of the men or creatures of the household get to see them –with the exception of Walter, that is…(Mind out of the gutter- who do you think deals with the laundry…)


	6. Chapter 6

Infection

The flight to Salerno was calm and relatively uneventful; the winter winds were mild, the plane left on time, and Sir Hellsing felt a dull, nauseous ache in the pit of her stomach. Two of her finest human bodyguards were kept close at hand-one a row ahead and one a row behind. Her vampires fared as well as could be expected- Alucard busied himself by reading and keeping his master company, hoping that conversation would ease her tension. Meanwhile, Miss Victoria snug in her coffin in first class storage took a long nap, filled with strange dreams of being attacked by gingerbread cookies and angry sugar-plum fairies. (Before she was packed away, Walter thought a few, good shots of Christmas brandy spiked into her blood would calm her nerves- horrid, horrid mistake...)When the travelers touched down on foreign soil, Integra cursed when she saw that a welcoming party from the Vatican come to pick up the crew .

"Welcome Sir Hellsing, " a greying priest with a thin face stated," Please allow us take your luggage. We have a car waiting for you and your associates..." There were in fact two cars- one for the passengers and the other for the luggage-including the rather large 'crate'-no one asked any questions. After a polite half-hour ride, the trip had concluded in front of the mighty iron gates of the Maximilian Villa.

The villa was huge-much larger than the English homestead, and had a sprawling quality that encompassed several aches of just garden alone. If it had been spring, the estate would have been a paradise of flowers and thick shrubs. Large trees with thick trunks and up-stretched branches indicated that the land was hundreds of years old. As the cars pulled down the stone driving path, the woman could not help but to take in the beauty of the statues that populated the place like frozen angels. The main building was breath-taking; arched windows, domed roofs, and thick marble stairs lead up to the paneled doors. The portal was almost red in colour, the knockers bright bronze in the shape of lions biting down on the holders.

"_Bit gaudy, isn't it?" Alucard thought to his master. She nodded in agreement._

The car doors were opened and the company escorted in wards. If the exterior was grandiose, the interior felt like being taken through a museum or section of eighteenth -century palace. Large oil paintings of religious subjects hung on the wall in ornate, carved frames, while plush rugs of braided Persian paisley carpeted the floors. The ceilings were high, allowing tall windows to curve and bend, allowing a great deal of afternoon light, framed by rich drapes of deep, green velvet. Their coats and jackets were peeled away and handed off to a young butler with an eager smile. The old priest, Father Cristabello, finally led the group to a large study at the end of the hallway.

"Arch Bishop," he announced , "Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Van Hellsing is here." A phrase in Italian was spoken through the thick door and then the Father turned to them .

"His Holiness will see you, please come in ."

"'His Holiness' - what a farce!," Integra muttered under her breath. A gentle hand on her shoulder reprimanded her.

"Now, now, we are guests...," Alucard reminded her," Be your gracious self, master." She took a breath, straightened her jacket lapels, and headed in with a straight spine and tight smile.

What caught Integra off-guard was the strange similarity of this place and her own study at home; the panels were deep wood and the bookshelves filled to the brim with documents, worn, bound copies and over-stuffed folders. Instead of East Indian figures settling into the decor, statues of the saints and Virgin Mary decorated the place. A huge mahogany desk was in the center of the room, and behind it, an over-stuffed leather chair with the Arch Bishop himself seated in it.

"How good to see you all. ," Maxwell began. He was not dressed in his religious garments, but in a crisp, white, high-collared shirt and vest of deep brown cotton. His long, pale-blond hair was pulled back tightly into a long braid. He rose and extended a gloved hand to Integra who shook it lightly, and then nodded warmly to the vampire and the two men.

"Did you find the trip from London smooth? Can we offer you anything?"

He asked, his sharp eyes probing Sir Hellsing's own hard orbs.

"No thank you- the flight was quite pleasant. The grounds are quite lovely." The Arch Bishop indicated for all to sit, and Alucard pulled the chair out for his master, then stood by her side.

"As we know, the holiday season is almost upon us, and we of Section 13 feel that it would be a fitting time to reach out and connect with our fellow up-holders of the faith... Now in a gesture of acceptance and community, His Holiness, the Pope, has asked us to include all denominations this year at our convention of supernatural forces. Even in the modern world of the Twenty-First century, the forces of evil lurk and prowl in both the dark of night, and right in front of us. Human terrors also do their fare share in corrupting the world around us, so it is our sacred duty to destroy all that would compromise the decency of the world. Don't you agree, Sir Hellsing?" He pronounced the 'Sir' with a bit of a hiss.

"Of course , sir, my family has been serving the Church of England for over a century. With the mutual co-operation and respect of additional groups, there could be great advancement in the defeat and elimination of the forces of darkness. Or, it could be a great, clashing mess- if respect is over-looked, that is."

"Of course." A slight knock on th door paused the conversation. The portal creaked open revealing the smiling face of Sister Yumiko with a tea tray.

"Excuse me sir, I've brought refreshments for the guests."

"Tea would be lovely-thank you, Sister." he replied. A steaming cup of tea was doled out to all. While she hated to admit it, Integra thought it was very refreshing, a fine quality Orange Pekoe. However, Alucard politely declined.

"Do you think I would poison your cup, sir?", Maxwell half-joked. The creature grinned wide, allowing a bit of his sharp canines to show through. The Bishop gulped a bit and knew not to press the vampire much further- Enrico had more than a slight inkling that he would much prefer_ his_ blood in a cup rather than a spot of China Black.

Chattering continued , the two heads doing most of the speaking, while the vampire, nun, and bodyguards listened. Finally after discussing the itinerary of the upcoming week, the sections of groups that would be present and a few polite, yet strained questions about family, the clock chimed four-thirty.

"I'm sure that you are worn out from travel- we can discuss the details of the convention over supper, if you wish. Sister Yumiko will be glad to show you and your servicemen to their rooms." He turned to the vampire. " We have also provided accommodations for you and your assistant, but I do have to have your word that the catacombs will remain untouched." The Bishop rose and looked the creature dead in the eyes. He merely bowed his head a bit and stared right back into them.

" I have given my promise to my master that my behaviour, as well as my ward's will be fitting while here in your company, however, if there are any surprises from Iscariot..."

"Father Anderson will be kept at a comfortable distance, and if you do need to interact, I have asked him to refrain from any unnecessary actions. "

"_Be happy I've allowed you to be neat her, fiend." The man thought, "I'd gladly steak you myself..." _

"_Careful, I can hear you..." Alucard countered."Let us play the game for a while, Maxwell, but beware..." _The Arch Bishop turned a bit pale, but smiled a bit and nodded his head.

"Father Cristabello will lead you to your resting place. "

"I've already met mine, but thank you all the same." With a swish of his long, leather coat, the creature exited, trailing after his master. Maxwell crossed himself and stifled a shudder; it felt as if someone was doing a little dance on his grave.

Elsewhere-The Maximilian Catacombs

"Bloody Hell-this place sucks!" was all that Seras could come up with. She was tiered, having her day-time rest disturbed b constant shuffling and shifting-she had even been placed down with a thud, like a box full of oranges. She was hoping that at least the destination would make up for the man-handling of her casket, but she was not impressed in the least by her lodgings. Halls of bones, hundreds of broken, slightly decomposing caskets, and piles of skulls-it was not the Waldorf Astoria... These 'hallowed' halls were dry and dusty, making her sensitive nose twitch and eyes water. The entire place had so many smells coming out of it at once it was a little overwhelming: dusts of centuries, the arid scent of bone marrow and the cloying essence of church incense . There were no creature comforts-no lavatory, no radio nor television, not even a place to unpack and store her clothes. All the little vampire could do was sit atop her coffin and wait for her master to arrive. A little before five, her ears picked up a pair of footsteps coming in from the outside and what sounded like a short conversation, then a prayer uttered in Latin. Through the doorway, the master strode in, rakish grin on his face.

"Master!", she cried, leaping down off her coffin and jumping to greet him. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and she breathed in his comforting scent.

"We're you good company for the skeletons? " he asked, and patted her head. She looked up and scowled.

"Those idiots dropped me when they placed me in here and called me all sorts of horrible things- for 'Men of God', they're not very nice. Also, this place is awful-what is it exactly?" Alucard removed his coat and placed it on the top of Sera's coffin. He sat upon his spread garment and his fledgling joined.

"This is the final resting place for nearly a thousand priests, nuns, and martyrs that the church buried-sometimes in secret. Most are here by peaceful terms, but others...perhaps it was the Church who condemned them to die down here during the Plague years, or for political reasons." Seras' eyes went wide

"It's a city of the dead.",she stated. Her master nodded.

"That's why we're here. Don't worry-it will be darker soon-I'll show you how to creep up into the house. Minus its inhabitants, it's a spectacular place."

"Is Miss Integra alright?" Alucard chuckled darkly.

"She hasn't laid a finger on him yet, and more importantly, neither has he. I head some of his thoughts on her and I'd quite like to garret him with that braid of his. "

"I don't like that man, if he so much as touches her...' Seras growled, her little fangs poking her bottom lip in rising anger.

"I'm sure you'll do what's needed-save your energy- we have a night watch later."

Elsewhere- The Guests Rooms-

Integra's room was beautiful-the carpeting was thick and plush in a deep shade of gold, matching the patterned wallpaper and pale bronze fixtures. A huge reproduction of "The Madonna of the Rocks" framed above the bed which was spacious enough for a whole family, never mind a single person. Her garment bags and suitcase sat atop the quilted, wheat-hued comforter. A full length mirror and spacious wardrobe filled a good portion of the room. A connecting bath was off to the left, and for a moment she breathed a sigh of relief. There were no windows and there was a door dissecting the boudoir from the toilet.

"At least it will make it hard if that bastard wants to peek in on my bath.," she said to herself as she started unpacking. The way that man had stared at her, his eyes washing over her made her feel stripped, even though she was covered from throat to bootstrap. When he shook her hand, her felt his fingers brushing over her knuckles, like tiny snakes. Ugh. Thank God she had been wearing gloves or she would have to wash.

Integra tried to not think about such things as she unpacked her suits and shirts and tucked more delicate items into cedar drawers. She caught a glimpse of herself in the silver glass and sighed. She looked a fright and she could _feel_ the bags encircling her eyes. With a huff, she peeled off her gloves, kicked off her shoes and settled into the comfort of her bed. The vest felt straining against her chest, so she unbuttoned the piece and threw it on the floor. When she was tiered, formality slipped down as a priority. Her glasses were plucked off and placed on the night stand- blurred vision saw that she would have an hour of rest before supper-perhaps get a quick shower in as well before dining with 'His Holiness'. Limbs grew heavy and she sprawled over the smooth fabric-it felt good to stretch after the cramped seating of the flight and car. The nap was being enjoyed for at least a good fifteen minutes when the bed shifted slightly. Integra rolled over and her hand bumped against something firm. She groggily pushed against it. It could be a pillow, but then again pillows aren't usually warm...

"My, my, we're moving a bit faster than I expected ." Integra opened her eyes and focused on the figure in black and red sitting beside- with her hand on his thigh. She pulled it away quickly and sat up. Alucard laughed.

"I wasn't complaining, my Lady."

"How did you get in?" He pointed to the door.

"It was cracked open, so I invited myself in. You should be more careful- you could have woken up to the Arch Bishop." His master made a face that reminded him of when a child tastes something bitter. He stoked her hair gently. "Remember what I told you, as long as I exist, I will never let anything harm you." She looked deep into the shifting eyes of her servant and smiled , in spite of her exhaustion.

"You've woken me up now- I can't sleep, so you'll have to keep me company." Integra said softly. She began to run the tips of her fingers over his cheek, trailing over the sharp line of his chin, and down to the exposed sliver of throat above the collar of his shirt, where the muscles of jaw and neck merged. Her fingers strummed over the pale flesh and the creature closed his eyes and began a deep purr-like noise in the back of his throat.

"Are you a cat, now?" she asked playfully. The vampire pressed against her a bit , but kept his hands firmly at his sides. His lips split into a Cheshire grin.

"I can be anything you want..." he whispered , the tone honeyed and low. Heat flushed into the woman's cheeks-he had said nothing obscene, but just the way he said it, conjured up a rush of want and warmth, most inappropriate for a virgin...

"_You can want-and have- that too, " he answered mentally, reading her desires "Anything you want... whenever you want..." She gulped, but replied firmly._

"_In due time." The vampire caressed a lock of hair that spilled near her lips._

"_Of course. I'm patient, very, very patient." _His finger stoked the full purse of her lips, sensing the pulse of blood through the thin skin. Her heart sped into a quick skip and her eyes mirrored the conflict between romance and restraint, lust and love, virginity and vice. The warmth of her mouth spilled open and she pulled on his bare finger, velvet tongue licking against flesh. Her hands stroked his wrists as she took his finger in deeper. The creature was lulled into enough comfort to pull an arm around his master's waist, but then a sharp sting broke their contact- her teeth bitting down sharply, nicking his finger.

"Ouch! What sharp little fangs you have!", Alucard could not help but to laugh a bit; it had only hurt a little, but it was her defiant spirit that was whip-sharp. Integra grinned wickedly .

"Did I say that you could embrace me?" she stated calmly. "Such manners need to be put in their place." She turned back down on her side and pulled his arm over her torso . The couple spooned into each other, a position that the vampire had been getting himself into quite a bit lately, but since his master was taller than his ward, he could nestle his chin in the crook of her shoulder, poised right next to her jugular. The contrasting essences of lavender, spicy tobacco and the gentle scent of maidenhood wafted off her long hair .

"No fair," he whined "I've never set teeth upon you, even during a feeding." Integra shifted her weight and her servant's grip grew tighter.

"True, very true- however, your fledgling has-several times, very poor conduct on her part." Alucard nuzzled the smooth side of her neck and whispered.

"Did it excite you, a woman's mouth on your skin?" He flashed a particularly romantic image of the two women in a compromising embrace into her thoughts. She shook her head.

"No, it didn't. I do not care for women in such a fashion. Sorry to disappoint you-and even if I did, you cannot be in the middle..." he groaned and pecked the back of her neck .

"Such a silly, little girl-perhaps I should punish her for her actions- bend her over and give her a good, hard spanking." He joked.

"Do as you like-she's your ward..." He continued brushing his lips against her neck, but shielded her from the sharp tips of his fangs. His master sighed.

"Perhaps you should be with her, after all, I'm only mortal."

"Hush." The teasing ceased and they were silent for a beat.

"Would you only have me as a corpse bride-an un-dead?"

"I would have you, however you wanted to come to me." She turned and faced him.

"I could only give you what I could any man-my natural lifetime." He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers.

"So be it." A strange look crossed over Integra's face, as if she hadn't made up her mind to cry or smile. She chose the later and kissed him chastely on the lips, a brief press, than a moment more, sealing their promise. Alucard's heart felt warm, and he could sense the relief and joy spilling out of his master's spirit. She hugged him tightly, but groaned when she caught sight of the clock .

"I have to get ready for supper." She began to get up when her vampire pulled her down to the bed again.

"Let him sit for a bit , and we'll both go downstairs together." he stated as he embraced her .

"But that will infuriate him-Lord knows what ideas he'll conjure up in his head, I-" Integra cut her own words off and smiled .

"Exactly"

The Drawing Room-

The clock chimed the hour for supper, but Maxwell only needed another moment to complete the rosary. The blue glass beads were so pale, they resembled frozen droplets of water. There were forty-two beads in all-each one representing an ancestor or current member of the Hellsing family . Even the thread that bound the piece together was made out of strands of Integra's own hair. The man held the talisman up to the light and it glittered and filtered a spectrum of colors. To the Arch Bishop, they were tears, dozens and dozens of tears that would be shed for her, for her family, for every descendant that was to come into being, unless, of course, she would use her head and make the right decision- him. He ran his fingers over the silken thread and wondered how smooth her hair would feel when finally got a chance to embrace her. A small leather pouch housed the treasure and he placed it in his vest pocket, close to his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

Isolation

_Just a little nod to "Dark Shadows" in this chapter sigh ...does anyone remember that show...?_

Dinner was a lavish affair that left the company content and quite filled. The courses were heavy, sauce-covered creations that kept coming continuously. It was a wonder how most of the household stayed so thin with such a diet, but then again, 'hospitality' called for such a show. Maxwell bit his tongue as the vampires stayed for supper-he had offered Sir Hellsing and her _men_ a meal, but if she insisted on having these beasts constantly at her feet, her had to oblige her. Besides, it was too soon to start up a row this evening. The Arch Bishop ignored that fact that she was ten minutes late to dine, and overlooked that the No-Life King was a little too close to his master's side for his comfort. The creature doted on her every whim, lifting her chair, pouring her wine-waiting on her hand and foot, all with a knowing smile. During the mid-point of the meal, he cast a sly glance to Enrico as his hand brushed against hers while gathering up her plate. Bastard!

"_Gloat now-you'll suffer later ." he thought, _but then the priest quickly realized his mental notes might be read, so he diverged his attentions to the lush centerpieces of burgundy and pink carnations that adorned the table and the creature's ward. The servants came in and brought steaming pots of coffee and tea accompanied by small platters of fruit, canolli, and a frosted sponge cake. Tall, transparent glasses of liquor balanced on silver trays. The little vampire smiled in delight and snagged a segment of orange, bitting down into the juicy pulp with her full lips. Enrico was charmed.

The 'girl' could not have been more than twenty-two and was very pretty. The last time he had seen her, she was clad in military garb attempting to prevent a bloodbath between her master and Father Anderson. Now, she was dressed in a tight, blue velvet dress, the empire waist emphasizing her generous bosom quite nicely. She was the direct opposite of her mistress in every way, but enchanting all the same-she would be a tasty morsel to sate his appetite before the main course, but alas, she was an un-dead, a fiend.

"_Pity, she's a whore of the devil, she'd be lovely to have in..."_ An icy glare from Alucard silenced his lecherous train of thought.

"_Don't dare think about either of my virgins that way...Priest_." _he hissed. _The vampire grinned and picked up a thin, long knife and gestured towards the man.

"Dear Bishop, it appears you crave something, sweet. Shall I cut you a piece of cake, or is there something else you desire? Be careful, too many treats may ruin your health... " He dug the blade swiftly into the soft body of the cake. Maxwell's face dropped.

Servicemen Williams and Smith, thanked the host and their Sir Integra for the meal and asked to be excused to go into the adjoining Parlour to have an after-supper smoke.

"Wonderful idea, perhaps I shall join you." she stated, taking a cigar out of a silver holder from her front vest pocket.

"Sir Hellsing, I would like to speak with you privately in my study-you may have your cigar there if you like." Integra cast a glance at both Seras and Alucard.

"Fine. Would you two mind staying out here? I believe I can handle a glass of sambuca and a Humidor without too much trouble. " Her vampires nodded. She rose and followed Maxwell into the hallway down to the study.

The pair settled themselves into the comfortable leather chairs facing two glasses of sambuca cordial, complete with a dense, black espresso bean lodged at the bottom. While not quite at ease with each other, the Arch Bishop at least kept a respectful distance and provided a light for her cigar. Integra drew a long breath and released a thin wisp of smoke which trailed over her head like a transparent halo.

"Thank you." she replied. He stared at her for a moment. While it would have been wonderful to see her in a dress like her servant's, the combination of a pressed, men's suit and her long, flowing hair was a very intriguing, a contrast of power and sensuality -it became her.

"I suppose you wish to discuss the semantics of the 'pre-conference' about the use of chemical weapons with our organizations. "

"Actually, I wanted to invite you to an opera at the end of this week." he countered. She took a sip of the colourless liquor.

"Be serious."

"I am." Sir Hellsing cocked an eyebrow and leaned into his face a bit.

"Arch Bishop, while your passion for the arts is quite admirable, I know for a fact that you do not enjoy my company-it is a miracle that we have had as much time together today without either one of us losing our tempers. My patience is wearing thin. I suggest you disclose your business now and not waste my time -or yours-any further." Maxwell merely grinned.

"We discussed earlier how building a more mutual respect would aid in the strengthening of our organizations, I am merely attempting to do that, _Sir _Hellsing."

"Perhaps, if you wish to build respect, you could drop the condescending tone when addressing me."

"It is not my fault you have picked something so _unnatural _as a title- 'Miss' or perhaps even 'Mrs.' would be much more fitting." Integra's eyes narrowed "You have stated publicly that you do not desire to marry, such a pity, I'm sure if you merely accepted your more gentle and generous nature you'd make a splendid wife." She dragged hard on the cigar and blew out a thick cloud practically in his face.

"You know little of my personal nature, and that is how I'd like to keep it, sir." She crushed out her cigar in the ash tray on the desk, and began to rise out of her chair, when he grabbed her hand. The action surprised her, but before she could react, he was mere inches from her face, intense green-grey eyes peering into her own.

"Integra, Sir integra, all I ask is that you for once treat me with some level of recognition and respect. Come to this event with me, talk to me, discuss whatever you wish. Certainly your heart cannot be so hardened and cold that you refuse to acknowledge a fellow Servant of God?" She pulled back a bit and was at a loss of words. The bastard was being sincere, or as much as he fathom."Can we not show each other a small bit of civility while we are in each other's company?" She sighed, and pulled her hand gently, yet firmly out of his grasp.

"I will think about it. Thank you for the drink-I wish to return to my company, good night." She turned and left. Maxwell eyed the still smoldering cigar left behind on his desk and picked it up, savouring the rich scent of the dissipating smoke, the tip still wet from her lips. He grinned and thought that this could have not worked out any better; he wrapped the piece in a handkerchief and placed it in his vest pocket nest to the leather pouch. It would make a fine offering later on tonight...

As Integra exited the room, she had a strange mix of anger and confusion bubbling around in her head- strong liquor did not aid in her focus. The thick, licorice taste coated her tongue and made it feel dense as a wet mattress. Her servants gazed at her as she approached the table.

"Is everything alright, Miss? He didn't harm or bother you, did he?" Seras asked, eyes bright with worry. Alucard looked calm, but concerned.

"No, everything is fine, just fine. I want to go up to my room for a few moments." She nodded to her vampires and turned towards the stairwell. The little vampire touched her shoulder lightly.

"May I accompany you?" Her mistress nodded a yes. She then leaned in and added quietly "I also would like to wash up a bit - our room doesn't really have running water, would it be alright to use your sink?"

"Of course, Miss Victoria. Oh, Cheshire King, we'll be back soon- do try to avoid the Bishop. What you pulled with the pastry knife was amusing, but once is enough for parlour tricks tonight." The creature bowed and began to step back, allowing the women to be on their way.

Elsewhere-

Far off in the frozen gardens of the villa, a form clad in a heavy, wool cloak padded their way through icy ground and light snow. They made a quick darting into a small, stone building that appeared to be a garden shed. Once inside, the clothed figure removed _her_ covering and shook out a full mane of golden-blonde hair. The soft glow of candlelight flickered and danced off the walls, illuminating the small tiered altar covered with fruit, flowers and gold-coloured cloth. The young woman began to gather up a tiny pouch from her cape and sprinkled the contents of it upon a small plate. She then grabbed a tall bottle of rum from the side and poured a thin stream of the liquid over it. All the while, she half-muttered, half-sang in French . The door cracked open, interrupting her ceremony . She looked up at the intruder, then smiled.

"Hello, Mon Cherie," she greeted, embracing her husband. Jacques kissed his wife and hugged her tightly

"Tonight goes well, Angelique?"

"Yes. The Bishop seems pleased-have you met the woman yet?"

"Not yet, but one of the children spied her coming in today-he said she was blonde and very pretty, followed by a tall man in black ." The woman tapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Behave yourself-you have enough sugar in your bowl." LeChat pressed his lips to her cheek and toyed with a lose wave of hair.

"Compronde, but you didn't say I can't play..."

Meanwhile, The Guest Rooms-

While Seras Victoria washed up in the toilette, Integra removed her suit jacket and went to retire it to the wardrobe. She let out a gasp. Her suits, all of her clothes save for her winter coats and an odd shirt were missing-gone.

"What in Bloody Hell is going on here !" she exclaimed. Perhaps she had a little too much cordial and was going daft. "Seras! Can you come out here for a moment?" The water ceased and the door opened. The girl was in her bra and slip, dress over her arm and a damp towel pressed to her cheek.

"What's wrong, Miss?"

"Come here-take a look" The vampire made her way over and peered into the almost-empty wardrobe. Integra blushed a bit-her curvaceous figure barely fit into her bralette, and when she leaned over she got a gander of flesh that the Frenchman would have given his _other _eye to behold.

" There's not much to see. Did you unpack yet, Miss Integra?"

"Yes! I had at over a dozen pantsuits and blazers -hung them myself. You and your master haven't been playing pranks, have you?" she inquired sternly. Seras shook her head.

"This is the first time I've been up here-we've been in the catacombs and with you all evening." Quickly, Integra started to rummage through her drawers. While most of her undergarments and gloves were present, the vests, socks and even shoes were absent.

"What goes on here! I barely have enough to wear for three days, never mind three weeks now!!

"You can borrow some of my things-I'm not sure what will fit you, but you're welcome to what ever may work." the creature offered. Her mistress huffed down on her bed, removed her glasses and pinched her sinuses, feeling a rather nasty headache approaching.

"_I will stay calm, I will stay calm, I will stay calm..._" she charted to herself like a mantra. Seras sat down beside her and touched her arm gingerly. While it looked like the gentility calmed Sir Hellsing, the woman took a deep breath, exhaled, and then emitted a string of colourful curses loud enough for the next three rooms to hear . While Seras had heard all kinds of swears while working in the military, she was a bit flustered that this elegant lady could out-curse a mercenary . The vampire sighed.

"_Oh bugger, this is not off to a good start..." _


	8. Chapter 8

No Love Lost

_So, between the past dozen or so stories and chapters, there's a running theme of titles-what are they based on? Does anyone out there remember the 1980's..._

The night was dragging onward and it had taken a good, calm conversation and a warm glass of milk to soothe the rage of the Sir Hellsing. As the clock indicated it was way past any average person's bedtime, the vampires were just beginning to stir; there was something electric in the that crackled under the calm exterior of the villa. Alucard insisted on staying with his master, who was fortunately drifting off to a reluctant sleep, but Seras sensed something in the hallways.

"If you stay in here with her, I'll patrol the corridors." Her master nodded in agreement, and she slipped out of the room silently. The remaining vampire gently tucked Integra in, tugging the comforter up to her shoulders and pulled her long mane of hair around her neck for extra warmth.

The hallways were pleasantly quiet and dimly lit-subtle wall lights cast a tranquil glow; the tick-tick-tick of the great clock near the stairwell was even and paced. Seras' eyes worked wonderfully well in the dark-there were no eerie shadows ,nor menacing specters, but there were indications that several others things were still happening, even at this wee hour. She crept through the pathways, ears pricked anticipating something to happen. Further and further she went from her mistress' room, creeping down, and then it hit her. Voices, male and female chatting to one another in what appeared to be a form of French. While Seras had never been a good student at languages, she was rapidly picking up French for quick conversations-and insults- from Captain Bernadette. She drew closer and tried to translate, but their voices grew softer and distant. The vampire trailed the sounds, but then they seemed to disappear around the bend of the hall. The light, spicy scent of cigar smoke filtered through the air, identical to the type Sir Hellsing favoured.

"_Silly mortals-don't they know it'll kill them?" she thought _. However, then another noise pricked up her ears and brought her to the left of the pathway. While it wasn't conversation, per say, the girl instantly knew the scenario. She was paces away from the Arch Bishop's chamber and did _not_ hear prayer. Soft whimpers and low, baritone moans were emanating from the room's interior. The hushed creaking of the bedsprings added to the mental picture that was already taking shape in her mind. Worse than that, she could smell the essences of sweat, wine, musk, and light cologne. Whoever was in there with him was defiantly female and very young. Instead of this tryst making her swoon or conjure up romantic images, the little vampire felt ill; the Bishop was a lech, a hypocrite and the very thought of him in _that _fashion disgusted her. There was a sharp cry; the soprano voice sounded frightened for a moment, as if begging to stop, but the sounds of passion continued, growing more heated.

"_Bloody pervert," she hissed mentally" If he even looks at Miss Integra in such a fashion, I'll, I'll-" _A soft hand on her shoulder startled her back into the hall. She turned around half-expecting to find the Irish priest ready to impale her, but instead she peered into the face of a tall, blonde woman in a long, white nightgown.

"What are you doing up so late, little girl?" she asked, her voice touched with a light, French accent . Seras took a few steps back. The woman could have been anywhere from twenty-five to well, forty .She was very beautiful, with big, doe-eyes and high cheekbones, but she did not have the rosy glow of a youth. Her blonde hair was piled casually upon her head, a few tendrils spilled out over her shoulders. She appeared curious, concerned, but not threatening.

"Are you looking for your room? Are you lost?" she asked. Quickly Seras lied.

"Oh, yes, Um, I'm here with the Hellsing Organization, and I've lost my way to my commander's room. I should be going..." Just then, a high gasp of pleasure pierced the air over and over. Seras turned pink and the woman just smiled.

"You weren't going in there to join them, we're you?" she inquired, her eyebrow arched slightly. The girl's eyes went wide and she stammered.

"I-I have my own bed to go to -thank you." the woman cast her a playful glance .

"What a pity-mine's just down the hall... wouldn't you like some company, mademoiselle?" Seras smiled and quickly made a departure back to her masters. All the while, she felt those eyes burning into the base of her head the entire way back to the room. When she arrived, her master was on top of the covers snugly next to Sir Hellsing, with a protective arm around the sleeping woman .Alucard looked at her inquisitively as she came over and promptly plopped next to him. She pressed against him like a child awoken from an unpleasant dream.

"_What goes on, girl?" he asked"Something nasty out there-anything to be concerned of?"_

" _No, but...Ugh. I just want to get all thought s of it out of my system. Nothing threatening, but if I see that pervert of a Bishop tomorrow, I'm slapping him." _Her master chuckled lightly.

"_Then you so don't want to know what he was thinking about you at the supper table tonight, then... very much indulging in the 'wild passion-on-the-kitchen table fantasy'..."_ The little vampire shuddered in disgust and buried her head in her sire's shoulder.

"_Ewwwwww, Lord-why are you telling me this, oh, gross. I'm never eating on that tale again!" _Her sudden action caused Integra to stir a bit ,and Alucard put his finger to his lips to shush his fledgling.

"_Hush, it will be dawn soon-let her sleep."_ The girl eased into his form and started to rest, eyes half-closed . He stroked Seras's short, choppy hair until she was dozing like a ginger kitten. (Even as a vampire, she was still a lightweight when it came to the pre-dawn hours, preferring napping to stalking. ) Meanwhile, he brushed a strand of hair from his master's face and pecked a light kiss on her forehead. The creature sighed-while he'd occasionally dreamed of a snug situation such as this, he felt more like a canine than a Casanova at the moment keeping watch over the two. However, when his virgins sighed and snuggled closer, he could not help a small smile spread across his lips...

The Next Morning- The Study

"I am so sorry, Sir Hellsing-there must have been a misunderstanding between the household staff. "Maxwell began , his voice low and pleasant."I'm sure that the suits were merely sent to the cleaners and will be returned promptly. In the meantime, I can arrange to have some substitutes sent to your room, pronto." Integra sighed, but nodded in agreement. Right now, she was dressed in her last full suit, a finely cut pin-stripe ensemble, but she had to borrow a straight, black tie from her own serviceman. A woman without her own wardrobe was at the mercy of the tastes surrounding her-she could have ended up in a sweater and mini skirt from Seras Victoria, and there was no way in hell she would be showcasing her attributes for this particular company. Speaking of the vampire, she was right next to her mistress' side-Alucard had requested some rest in the catacombs, and if she could stay inside with the drapes closed, the fledgling would be fine for a few hours of service. She was quite uneasy in the priest's study-the thoughts of the previous night's activities, left her aggravated-she could barely look the man in the face without wanting to punch him. The pair continued talking and scheduled a 12:45 luncheon to address the weapons conference and to discuss budgeting. When Sir integra rose to leave, her servant surprised her with a strange request.

"Miss, may I speak with the Arch Bishop for just a moment?" Integra cocked her head and mentally warned her vampire.

"_Be careful-no tricks or intimidation-you can't handle him as well as your master can." _The creature just smiled. Integra closed the door The Arch Bishop eyed her for a moment- while not anywhere as dressed as the other evening, she looked appealing in a tight grey sweater, short, black skirt with thick tights and high, leather boots. She grinned cutely and bowed a little before him. Her curves reminded Enrico of the sweet melons that were displayed in the summertime markets in Naples- soft, round and very juicy.

"I want to thank you for your hospitality that you have shown my masters and I while here, Arch Bishop." He was surprised by the show of politeness -perhaps the haughty Protestant vixen had some breeding in her household after all. The girl came close and her little face only grew brighter.

"You are welcome-I have spoken to your master and he told me that you had given your word that your behaviour would be fitting in a Home of God. "

"Of course, sir. Now tell me, what can I do for you to show you just how grateful I am for your kindness?" While lovely the evening's candle-glow , she appeared even younger in the low, morning light, perhaps no more than eighteen -this was getting interesting...

"What is your name again?" he asked The girl slowly maneuvered herself into the leather armchair, allowing her skirt to ride up just a bit further.

"Victoria, Seras Victoria- Agent , closing in on Captain in the Hellsing Organization." she replied. Maxwell leaned in closer.

"Are you a loyal servant to your masters, Miss Victoria?"

"Oh yes, I'm a good, obedient, servant wishing no more than to please my masters and follow their every command..." He inched closer to the young woman.

"Oh really?"

"I'm very, very good at taking orders. My mistress has made sure that I'm particularly inclined to honour her company as well-after all it would be a poor show of manners not to respond to such a man as yourself, Bishop." He leaned over the desk, and reached out a finger to lift her chin upwards a bit. She made no resistance and merely smiled. Enrico pulled his face to hers-she had full, bowed lips, like a ripe, little plum, and he desperately wanted a taste.

"Your mistress is very wise, my dear." His finger rubbed the soft skin and she began a little purr in the back of her throat. Charming. "In Italy , we are very affectionate people-may I say 'Good-Morning' to you?" He brushed his lips against hers lightly, tenderly, then pressed harder- his tongue flicking against her warm mouth. At that point , he felt two needle sharp fangs nip his own flesh and he pulled back in horror.

"And that dear, Bishop, is how one says 'Back the Hell-Off' from London. " she growled. Seras firmly placed her hands on his desk and stared the man down, eyes burning crimson. "I don't know how well your little farce works on everyone else, but let me tell you this- if you ever, ever, place and hands on my mistress-or-me again, or even have one slimy, lecherous thought about either of us roll into your head-I will make you very, very sorry." Maxwell grimaced.

"You little Whore of the Devil!," he snarled "How dare you threaten me!"

"And how dare you call me a whore- everyone woman to you is whore, a harlot-something terrible! How dare you have the gal to call my mistress any of those names! We're both maidens, you twit! The only one who apparently should be worrying about their lack of virginity is you!" The creature sniffed him, much to Enrico's surprise , then bared her fangs in a predatory smile.

"In fact you were just with a woman-no, a girl- just the other night and once again this morning...so young and naive- I can_ smell_ her skin on you...bloody hypocrite." she hissed. She curved one of her own clawed fingers around his collar and pulled him nose to nose.

"I will not harm you here-after all, I gave my master my word, but if I see you touch her... it won't be very pleasant." and with that, she pecked him on the cheek, composed herself and left, shutting the door behind her, leaving the Arch Bishop shaken and his lip slightly bleeding. Seras wiped her mouth, and faced Sir Hellsing waiting patiently in the hallway.

"And what was that all about?" she demanded. The little vampire turned to her mistress and smiled.

"I merely educated the good Bishop on London's customs-that's all. Now come on, let's get your suits ready."


	9. Chapter 9

She's Come Undone

The hazy sun attempted to shine through thick, billowing clouds that hovered low on the horizon. A winter's sky provided the perfect coverage for the vampire to move freely about the household and grounds, but by noon, Seras was exhausted. She trailed back to the underground catacombs attempting to shake off the nasty encounter from the morning's meeting; she could still feel the Bishop's lips on her skin and hoped that it would be the single time he would ever touch her. She gazed around looking for her master, but when she heard a heavy yawn from her coffin, she knew exactly his whereabouts. She unlatched the lid and was greeted to a lazy, scarlet eye opening, then the other, and Alucard grinning like a tiger.

"And look who's sleeping in my bed...I feel like I'm in that fairy tale." she joked. "Good day, master- may I get some sleep??" He extended a hand and pulled her in.

"What? No porridge, Goldilocks? " he teased. The fledgling snuggled in close-her head was heavy and she craved the cozy confines of her casket.

"Can we have Bishop for breakfast?" Seras asked. She mentally conveyed the previous events and her master snarled.

"Would you like me to take care of him this afternoon?" The girl pressed her head to his shoulder.

"No, we promised Miss Integra that we'd both behave- so far I haven't seen Father Anderson, but I'm sure he'll make an appearance if there's any hint of a threat. Also, I don't want _him _taking anything out on her." She felt a pull in her stomach, and her tongue felt thick.

"Hungry?" Alucard inquired. His ward nodded and rubbed her cheek against his. Still such a child, making her wants so crystal clear.

"Very-and I can still taste that bastard on me-yuck." Her master turned and pecked her chastely on the lips.

"Better?" he asked

"Yes." She began to nuzzle against the side of his neck, little fingers busily undoing the upper buttons on his shirt.

"Right from the jugular-you're getting bold in your afterlife, aren't you?" He recalled how in their early partnership, she would not even take a few drops from his finger... The creature sighed as he felt the warm, wet pressure from her mouth on his skin. She was practically on top of him, curves settling against his own form. His hands stroked the fur-soft sweater and rested his fingers in the small of her back.

"_You can do whatever you like." he whispered, sensing her need. "Take whatever you want from me-my blood, my love, my protection, my body..." _He could sense the heat rushing up her cheeks on that last little comment, and held her tighter. She responded with a tiny squeak and continued to lap against the soft whiteness , causing her master to dig his nails into the muscles of her back. He felt a dark warmth rise up from the pit of his stomach like a cobra uncoiling.

"_Two can play this game-I can turn you pink, too." She teased._. A few more buttons came lose allowing clever hands to slip under and caress his shoulders and chest, her touch playful and light. She slowly scrapped her canines across the designated spot, making her partner purr with contentment. Then without warning, the little vampire bit down, ivory teeth puncturing pale flesh with a deep, red kiss. Her master moaned and enjoyed every minute of their encounter, the release much welcomed after a frustrating night of wanting, and merely watching. He twisted his fingers through her hair, pushing her down harder as she swallowed every drop of thick, black blood. When she had her fill, Seras licked the wound clean and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. A bead of blood still trembled on her lips-with a flick of his tongue the creature cleared it. His ward smiled and pressed her hand to his cheek.

"Thank you, Master." He pecked her forehead, an let the girl gather up some rest. As he closed the lid of the coffin, the vampire straightened out his clothes and re-buttoned his shirt. The rest of the day, and_ his _master, were waiting.

Elsewhere- The Alter of the Blessed Rose

"Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our deaths...Amen." Maxwell completed the Hail Mary and gazed upon the serene statue of the holy woman above the candle glow of the alter. The craftsman had carved the delicate face of the Madonna with care and detail; the calm smile, the heavy-lidded eyes filled with love and the flawless folds of veil and robe were all captured in polished wood. He sighed and crossed himself thinking of the young woman who had told him she loved him the other day. Sister Mariana had proclaimed her feelings for him; during the death of the night, perhaps even as the sun crept over the horizon, she turned to face him from their tangled embrace, stroked his cheek, and whispered that she loved him-truly, absolutely and completely. She claimed that she finally knew who she was and what she wanted . She would forsake the order for him, gladly stay by his side, and love him the rest of her days.

"_Foolish, foolish girl." Enrico thought. "Get yourself back to Sienna." _These trouble with these young women is that they confused _copulious _with _cordia- one of the first lessons leaned in the seminary was that 'loving' and 'rutting' were not one in the same... _Now that Sir Hellsing was here, the sister would have to be dismissed .There could be no snags with the scheme brewing in the wings and if the girl was to go to the noblewoman or her pets and reveal their affair, things could go awry. The novice would go back home and attend to her family, forgetting all about him in a year or so-it was for the best.

"_Women, such strange creatures." the Arch Bishop mused._ They were mysterious_- _one moment so caring, compassionate, loving, then capable of turning into conniving, calculating harlots, deferring to their base nature. To the Arch bishop, there were three faces of female-they all merged and reflected each other, though only a few could adhere to the pinnacle . The first archetype was the virgin-mother, the kind, loving facet of woman he had known so little of.-after all his own mother had abandoned him and his step-mother rejected him. There were traces of this in Sister Yumiko, when she was in her right mind, and Sister Mariana , but to find it pure and unadulterated in these days was challenging. Women craved too much power, and had forgotten their place in the structure of the world and church. It was Eve and Lilith, mothers of flesh and sin, who were ruling over the populace, leaving Mother Mary far behind.

"_The little Protestant Sow has the audacity to take on a man's title, a man's appearance and the power of her father- yet she is no different than any other woman- once humbled, she could be redeemed. Under that pride is nobility, intelligence, and a fierce faith-it's just going to take some redirection to bring out her better nature. Underneath it all, she is only a woman. "_ Maxwell thought. She was also so beautiful-he longed to see her graceful form out of those androgynous suits and pondered how her flesh would feel under his fingers. In spite of her masculine attire and demeanor, she always smelled like a woman-the lingering fragrance of powder and lavender filled his office for almost a half-hour since her visit-it was intoxicating. He wanted that scent to linger on his pillows, drench his sheets and cling to his skin in the morning after. All of this would come in due time...The afternoon was progressing and their lunch hanging on the hour. The first little step in the reformation of Sir Hellsing would be met with in the parlour.

The Guest Bedroom-

She checked every single one of the them - double checked, and then reached for a cigar. Integra's suits had been promptly replaced with some of the finest garments money could buy; suits of wool, silk blends, boucle, and even real tweed from her native England. They were lovely creations that fit her perfectly, expertly tailored to her height, but there was a very aggravating glitch in the wardrobe-

"Dammit! Skirts-they all have skirts!" she roared. Integra hated skirts - dresses, ball gowns, even casual garments she disliked with a passion. While she occasionally donned one for a formal function, she did it rarely and with a heavy grain of salt. Skirts were a sign of fragility, femininity, and foolishness in her opinion. She had read once that one of the reasons that the skirt had persisted in the female wardrobe so long, even when tunics, togas and the male equivalents had been replaced by trousers, was that they allowed 'easy access' by their husbands and lovers. This sexist philosophy was enough to make Integra cast off her schoolgirl frocks and kilts permanently at age thirteen.

Sir Hellsing checked the clock and realized that she would have to either wear one of these pieces to the luncheon, or find Seras and ask to borrow a pair of pants-her final pair had a juice spill on the knee from this morning's breakfast and currently in the wash. Then it dawned on her-the vampire was about six inches shorter than herself and much curvier-at least a few sizes difference. She lit her cigar and sat on the edge of her bed- shorter women always had more choices than taller ones when it came to these things it seemed. Plus, the little vampire was adorable-she could wear a sack and have men drooling over her. Integra was not 'adorable' nor 'cute' she was, well, stately, and perhaps even 'handsome' would be more fitting description. She did not possess the roundness, nor spunk, or any of those bouncy qualities that made Seras so cuddly.

She released a quick puff of smoke and made a decision of a black wool suit with a long skirt that reached almost to her ankles. A sharp, white shirt with French cuffs and a deep , blue ascot made a striking visual choice. She gazed at herself in the wardrobe mirror and sighed-the garment had a high slit in the back revealing the swell of her calves and a hint of her thighs from the rear.

"Great, just great-I'll have to make sure that I walk behind his majesty so that he doesn't look up my skirt." she stated . She placed her hands firmly on her hips and sighed-tights, she definitely needed thick, winter tights.

Elsewhere-

"Papa" Jack and "Mama" Angelique sat at the table in their room, still bundled in heavy bathrobes, sipping huge cups of steaming , black coffee. A china plate of buttered croissants and thick slices of peaches and pears was off to the side. The woman offered a golden slice of fruit to her husband who took it with a little flick of his fingers.

"Today, I'm going to the market -I'll be picking up presents for the children and wine-lots and lots of wine for us and the Baron. " she stated.

"Remember, he likes it sweet. "

"How could I forget." He let a finger stroke her hand and she smiled.

"Tonight, I feel that I should meet the lady of the house-I already ran into her servant-girl the other night. She seemed -nervous."

"Did you make her nervous?" She sipped her coffee with a sly smile .

"What do you think?" Jacques laughed.

"Such the devil, you are!"

"More than you'll ever know, my dear..."

Sounds very much like what Mrs. Lovette would say to Sweeny over the kitchen table...

Funny, in "Panic" Seras feels like a short, chubby thing, "with none of the traits that make her mistress so lovely"-Integra's height, slenderness,etc. Meanwhile, the tall,graceful one whimsies on being tiny and cute...ah women...are we ever happy with the way we are?


	10. Chapter 10

Atmosphere

The Parlour, Maximilian Villa

The table was impeccable, set with fine Delft China, delicate silverware, and even the napkins were folded like oriental fans. A large Asian teapot covered with cherry blossoms and blue clouds occupied the center flanked by a pair of matching cups.

"It looks lovely, don't it Sir Hellsing?" Serviceman Williams stated. Integra nodded and dismissed her bodyguard to the hallway. While she did not quite feel threatened, it was comforting to have the added manpower behind her, just in case something should go awry.

"Sir Hellsing-so good to see you..." The Arch Bishop rose from the back of the room to greet her, placing down a large picture -book of India. He was still clad in his priestly robes, the long stole almost reaching below his knees. He indicated for her to sit and the woman took her chair slowly, the long skirt still feeling a bit strange on her body.

"How lovely you look today-tell me, do the clothes suit you?"

"While I am grateful for the change of apparel, I find the skirts a bit, uncomfortable." The man reached for a cup and began to pour a stream of steaming, fragrant tea out.

"Why is that?" Enrico enquired.

"When have you ever seen me wear a skirt? I find them quite impractical." The Bishop smiled a little and placed the beverage in front of his guest- the aroma of cloves, steamed sugar, and cinnamon was enticing.

"But my dear Sir Hellsing, you look charming when dressed as a woman." Integra cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Funny, I was thinking the same about you." He frowned a bit.

"Are you mocking the vestiges of a Catholic Priest??" She took a sip of her drink- black, India Chai, the expensive kind, mixed with honey and milk.

"Not at all, just making light of the situation. Delicious tea." His demeanor softened.

"It's Chai from India. I was informed that on occasion you enjoy such a treat. I also took the liberties of having a semi- East Indies lunch set out for us ." Integra was surprised-few people knew of her penchant for her favoured dishes; the effort was rather thoughtful.

"Thank you. How did you find out my tastes?"

"My kitchen staff called your head butler and he was very helpful. Has he been in your services long?"

"Yes-Mr. Dornez has been with my family since my father's time as head of the Organization. I've never known a moment when Walter hasn't been in my life- he's like an uncle to me."

"I see. Your mother was Indian?"

"Yes, she was." The subject of Integra's mixed heritage was met sometimes with curiosity, other times with distaste among the blue-bloods of British aristocracy, and never bothered her personally in the least. Her family had been inter-marrying with Far Eastern nobility since the end of the first World War, with the tradition continuing with her cousin currently. The Lady Sheena Parvati Amurri was a decent, beautiful woman who had been nothing but a blessing to her household, husband, and heir. She passed when her daughter was eight, but Integra recalled those happy years before her illness with warmth. The fine, delicate structure of her bones and the deep, copper-colouring of her skin played tribute to the deceased every time she passed by a mirror.

"What of your family, Bishop?" His face stirred for a moment, then he quickly sipped his cup.

"Perhaps, we should talk of the convention.", he replied. Their conversation turned to the impending meeting where dozens of organizations from across the globe would be attending to discuss the current events of demons, demographics and impending doom.

"There are forces that state that the un-dead or magikal beings may be in use now with the current war in Iraq. While I find that very hard to believe, there are by far more unconventional methods of combat that are being utilized as the war drags on and people get desperate. England and America are getting quite disgusted. I feel that-" Enrico's train of thought was interrupted by the butler, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and thin frame, providing a tray of curried chicken with savory jasmine rice, hot pickles, and steamed vegetables with coconut slices. "Let us discuss war later -exotic tastes are best served hot." The pair ate in relatively comfortable quiet, though Integra had the ever-present feeling that there was an under-lying goal to this meal- the more she dealt with politics and power, she knew that under every intention was a huge ball of string usually attached to _everything. _

"When will we be going into the pre-conference about the use of chemical weapons?" Sir Hellsing asked between bites of curry. The Arch Bishop completed his chewing and dabbed his mouth.

"Hmm, I would like to go into detail about that. Imagine, if you can, a plot hatched up by a formerly Catholic country that will incorporate not only harmful, illegal substances, but human hosts-including the smallest and weakest of all the population to be drugged, turned, and then used as loyal, unfailing soldiers "

"I would find that an abomination in the eyes of God and man.," she replied.

"However, these would not be unfeeling ghouls to be dispatched with a slice of the sword or the piercing of the heart, but they would retain their humanity-still be feeling, breathing, actual human beings, just induced to the point of murderous intentions. How should one deal with innocents changed into killers?" She paused for a moment, not quite sure if he was testing her.

"I would think that the best plan of action would be to destroy the source of the problem, then round up and treat the victims." The man eyed her over his tea.

"What if you had the ability to prevent such an atrocity from happening-wouldn't you do everything in your power to defuse such an occurrence?"

"Of course-just what are you getting at Bishop?" Maxwell merely smiled and re-filled his cup.

"Just asking- ethical questions keep the mind sharp. Also, I wish to inquire your position on the opera this Friday- it's only a mere day away, do you wish to attend? It's Puccini- 'Turandot', a very good one, though it was completed after the maestro's death. " While the company displeased her, it had been a long time since the woman had been able to attend a cultural event-also if she finally said 'yes' to this request in the early part of her obligation, perhaps he would leave her the hell alone for the rest of her stay.

"Fine-yes, I'll go with you, but with the condition of being properly chaperoned, of course. "

"Of course, a lady of your status must protect her reputation."

"Don't patronize me, Maxwell. I care little for my reputation, I just care to keep our meetings as professional and civil as possible."

"As you wish. Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Yes-thank you. Please send my compliments to the chef." She wiped her hands on the linen and began to rise.

"Oh Sir Hellsing?"

"Yes?"

"I truly have a genuine fascination for the arts, particularly opera. It's a wonderful opportunity to see and hear a performance in its native environment-I hope that you understand that I only wish to share my passions with you."

"Perhaps you should keep your passions in check a while longer, dear Bishop-good day." Integra rose and turned, the slit of the skirt flaring open a bit, unintentionally casting a glimpse of her long legs to eager eyes.

"_Perhaps, I should have gotten suits with shorter hems..." _he thought wishfully while watching her depart.

Elsewhere-

The Study, Hellsing Manor, England

Captain Bernadette thumbed through a small French to English Dictionary, creasing the corners of various pages. He had been doing this more and more on his time off to aid Vic in her mastery-or butchery - of his native tongue She was so excited to learn the language, so willing to please and surprise him with little phrases and quotes. While having a complete, simple conversation in French was her goal by Christmas, he ha d a feeling that it was going to take at least until after the new year for her to do so.

"_It just means I'll have to teach her longer_. " he thought. Perhaps, he could incite her tutoring by offering a reward- maybe some chocolates or a kiss for each correct word...of course, the two could be combined in some interesting ways. He couldn't help it-the thought of her cute, little smile dabbed with coco was quite appealing.

"So which degree of perversion are you at right now- cute and naughty, down and dirty, or evil and twisted?" Lord Andrew joked seeing the dreamy gaze of man. "You're thinking about her, aren't you? I can tell by your dog-worn face." The mercenary scowled at him a bit, but then broke into a good- natured smile.

"Yeah, I am-can't help it, she hasn't been here all week to kick my ass, you know?"

"Well, she'll be returning in a bit, and just in time for the holidays. In fact, my wife and I would like to invite the two of you to the evening concert she's giving right before Christmas. Would you like that? " His face lit up.

"Yes-thank you! It will be our first Christmas completely together- neither of her masters will be here, so we can have some more time to ourselves." Andrew patted the man on his shoulder.

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?" The Hellsing heir playfully stroked his chin and grinned wickedly, like a villain from a old-time melodrama.

"Well, think of it this way- a nubile, young woman and a strapping, young man all alone for the romantic holiday season-plenty of wine and mistletoe -things could get pretty heavy. That's why Miss Victoria's master and wise mistress have asked me, Meena, Walter- the whole family -to chaperone you two and make sure you play like good, little children while Mama and Papa are away." Pip's face dropped.

"Oh come on! Can't I get a break."

"Nope."

"You're a young man in love-certainly you must understand."

"Captain- when I was a younger, rasher man out in the field, you wouldn't believe what and -who -I got myself into. When I was introduced to Meena, my whole situation changed. The marriage was arranged by her family and mine, and what I thought what would be the worst thing in my life, turned out to be the dearest. However, the folks were strict Hindi. Even when I was engaged to her, we barely got a moment alone."

"She's gorgeous and so affectionate-how'd you deal?"

"Cold showers, cheap skinflints, and a quick wedding date. How I suffered-you'll suffer! If I see any randiness, I'm smacking the hell out of you."

"Yeah right!" the Captain scoffed.

"Fine-I'll let mum backhand you-trust me, under that prim n' proper exterior, beats the heart of a heavyweight boxer. I still have the scars to prove that." Pip sighed.

"_Merde."_ he thought."_These Brits have no heart, no heart at all!" _

Later That Evening - The Courtyard, Maximilian Villa

The pair walked quietly, frozen leaves crunching underfoot as they made their way around the courtyard. There was no moon to light the path, but a few scattered lamp-posts illuminated the area, reflecting silver off the ice. While the weather was growing bitter, it was a welcomed relief to be outside in crisp air, away from the snide remarks of the present company. Alucard had spent the later day exploring the villa, the darkened halls of the catacombs , and the sprawling, surrounding grounds.

"Tell me of your findings today." Integra inquired. She pulled her wool wrapper tighter around her neck , and shivered slightly from the cold. Almost instinctively, her servant offered her the warm folds of his coat. She declined gracefully, and continued her pace.

"The entire manor is quite legitimate, but I do sense that something, somewhere is not quite right." the vampire stated. "Not so much an actual physical presence, but an intent."

"Any un-dead ?" Alucard shook his head.

"None that I am aware of, but the Catacombs are filled with intense energy . It's starting to scare the hell of out of Seras,-she claims that she saw one of the skulls move, but it may just be her imagination. I don't doubt that something is down there, but is harmless for the most part. There are also hundreds of small relics posted around the house-including several placed in your room."

"Any reason in particular?" He grinned.

"They are supposed to keep evil spirits away. I guess Maxwell doesn't want me creeping into your bed."

"And I don't want him creeping in - we're even then." she replied.

" Was the lunch was informative?" She huffed and dug her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. .

"Not really-he keeps eluding to all sorts of supposed conspiracies and this additional meeting has not materialized-I think this was a ploy to get me out here longer for his own personal amusement. Also, he wishes me to attend an opera this weekend." The creature chuckled slightly.

"I see- he's asked you out on a little date." Sir Hellsing furrowed her brow.

"It's not very funny at all. I've agreed to pacify him for now, but I want both of you to come for added protection." The two proceeded to an ornately carved bench- a pair of cherubs in flight adorned the base, while an intricate lattice pattern decorated the seat. The night was peaceful, chilly and deep. She while would later claim it was for warmth, Integra cuddled up to he vampire. A few sparse flakes of snow began to tumble down, one landing on her nose.

"That's cold!" Integra exclaimed. Alucard gently wiped it off with a finger. For a moment , he gazed at her. She was so lovely in this dim light, her skin glowing dark gold and her hair taking on an even lighter hue against the lamp-shine. Deep, blue-grey eyes pierced into his own , intense, even from behind their fortress of glass and wire.

"You're thinking about the first time I allowed you to touch me." she said softly. While he often completed her sentences and thoughts, she was quite capable of doing the same.

"Yes. You were fourteen and it was after you finally beat me at fencing." The woman recalled the event and laughed lightly.

"Fencing? It was more like you trying to skewer me!"

"I was merely trying to teach you-true combat doesn't have all the niceties of a civilized sport, master. I told you I was proud, and you let me pat your head. You didn't flinch or recoil away . " There was a beat of silence. "Do you remember when you let me kiss you?" Integra moved his hand away from her face, and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"You mean how you stole one." she corrected. When Integra was seventeen, her bravado had almost gotten her killed. She went out on a solo mission to dispatch of some minor ghouls that were re-surfacing in the area. The combat had been heavier than expected and when the vampire's minions proved overwhelming, she went berserk, slaughtering everything that had crossed her path. While triumphant, the rage did not leave her as she attempted to drive home.

Her focus was unstable and she ended up crashing her car into a tree. She had cracked a rib or two-painful, but not fatal. However, her head hit the windshield, embedding shards of glass deep into a gash on the left side of her temple. When she dragged herself home, Walter and the staff were worried sick- she was doctored up, but not after Walter raged on her about how she could have destroyed herself. He slapped her across the face making the pain in her head explode-the first time she had been physically punished since she was a child. A huge, stitched wound blossomed over her eye, and to add insult to injury, her long, long hair that she treasured so much had to be cut to above shoulder length- a huge chunk of it had been severed off in the accident, leaving it very unbalanced.

"When I was in bed that night-more like dawn at that point- after the doctor's visit and all the blood, you visited me."

"You were horrid- barbed tongue and very defensive."

"I thought you were going to yell, so I prepared for you to gloat and torment me. Instead, you plucked out the remaining glass from my cut, and said you missed my hair." Alucard pulled her close.

"I also told you that I still saw a lot of the old Germanic Berserker in you-that you should be proud of your nature. You're still a brave warrior , my Durga " She began to smile warmly and allowed his arms to encircle her waist. Her own hands held his shoulders fast.

"Just when I let my guard down, you kissed me-then disappeared leaving me quite confused -"

"And breathless." he added. "I got to kiss you again, but it wasn't until you were twenty. Oh, wait-you kissed me." She pocked him in the chest.

"I pecked you on the forehead-stop making it more than what it was."

"It meant the world to me." he replied. Integra turned away for a moment, not wanting him to see the colour rising in her cheeks. He pulled her face to his and breathed into her ear. "It did then as it does now. " She looked up into the softened face of her servant. While not quite human in every aspect, his eyes were particularly warm, and the line of his mouth gentle. She drew in close and kissed him lightly on the lips before it deepened. She pressed firmly, savoring the warmth of his mouth spilling into hers. She was passionate, but a bit clumsy in her actions.

"_Haven't had much practice, have you?" He teased_

"_Hush" she replied as her tongue lapped against his, the kiss gaining heat. T_he occupied couple were unaware that they were being watched.

High above on his veranda, The Arch Bishop gazed upon the pair with a hate and lust boiling up in his heart like a great, steaming cauldron. His fingers turned white as the marble banister he clutched. Thoughts reeled like pinwheels in his mind.

"_How dare he- how dare he touch what is mine! That bastard will lose his head for this. "_ He coveted her touch , her warmth, the very blood that flowed through her veins- this woman would not be soiled by such a _monster. _He should be the one making her swoon, the one making her grow hot and eager , his name would be the one she would cry out in the night. Not him, not this..._beast_. This disgrace would end-he would personally see to that. A soft voice called to him from his bedchamber.

"Darling, it's freezing, come inside." Mariana stated. When she put her hand on her love's shoulder, he grabbed her , eyes smoldering with want. He pulled her to him roughly , lips smothering, devouring her completely. His hands slipped up her thighs, nails raking against fragile flesh. The true object of his desire was just out of reach, so it seems that he would have to slake his lusts out elsewhere. The poor girl confused his frustrations for adoration, and was thrilled when they barely made it to the bed , their passion beginning against the wall. At the height of it, she buried her head against his shoulder and murmured his name lovingly. Her cries meant nothing- Maxwell's heart was dust and his thoughts were fixated on the frozen garden and his own burning envy.

Delft China- This is a famous type of China -ware made in Holland with an Asian pattern. The Asians were the first to make porcelain , and when the Europeans discovered it, they wanted to create their own version, and called it "China" to pay homage to the original art. Delft China is always in a bright blue and white pattern and usually includes dragons, flowers, and other "Oriental" motifs.

Skinflint- Cheap, naughty magazine.

"Turandot"- One of Puccini's final operas that was never completed. The Composer Franco Alfano had to finish the piece about the haughty princess and the secret name in 1912. (More about it in the next chapter!)

Durga- The Hindi Goddess of War and Battle , often depicted as a beautiful woman with four to six arms, each brandishing a sword, riding on the back of a tiger. Alucard calls her "Durga" as a term of endearment, acknowledging her warrior nature. She also has a statue of the deity in her study, originally belonging to her mother.


	11. Chapter 11

Love Will Tear Us Apart Again

"Hmm, will this fit better, or that?" the woman asked herself while holding up a long, lacy dress in one hand, and a rainbow, silk skirt in the other. The motley pattern of violet, emerald and azure appealed more. Smooth satin caressed slender hips, as Angelique Le Chat dressed for supper. Her creme blouse was form-fitting and of a soft, spun cotton while the patchwork skirt exploded in a kaleidoscope of color. A pair of large, gold hoop earrings completed the gypsy-like dress; before she walked out the door, she pilled a stack of coppery bangles upon her bare wrists .They jangled like bells- she wanted to let the company know when she was coming. Her dear husband would be joining them later-he was occupied with the children right now, aiding them in their studies. Ms. Le Chat glided down the stairwell and headed towards the dining hall. Tonight, she would be meeting the Arch Bishop's company officially-she had already met the delightful mademoiselle, and looked towards their next encounter.

Dinner was rather early-what would have been considered "Tea" in Integra's Britain, but due to the performance tonight, the household made an exception to prepare the meal several hours in advance. Sir Hellsing sat at the table with a dour look on her face. The paperwork for the convention had been daunting and she had been up since 6 A.M. attempting to organize it. The Bishop had been particularly clingy today- asking for her company at breakfast, constantly "checking in " on her office work to see if she "needed" anything, and all the while she had the feeling that when ever she exited his company , his eyes undressed her. Damn skirts, damn Italy, damn it all! She was growing quite weary of this little game and was a few short puffs away from strangling him. Seras had done as much as she could to lift her mistress' spirits and she was enthusiastic about seeing the opera.

"I've never been to one- I don't think "The Pirates of Penzance" counts, does it? Ohh, I do so like theatre!" She had already picked out a charming frock to wear herself and also chose something appropriate for Sir Hellsing.

"I'll make sure it's a dark colour, so that you can hid a handgun under the jacket." she stated. Ah, the little vampire could be very practical when she wanted to be...

The Hellsing Household sat patiently waiting for the Bishop to settle in for supper; Seras was to her left while Alucard perched by his master's right side. Serviceman Smith was outside the door, while his companion had claimed to not be feeling very well-he retired to his quarters to nurse a nasty headache. Father Christabel had settled in at the long table and made pleasant small talk with the little family.

"And how do you find your accommodations?" he inquired to the vampires, perhaps still unaware of their un-dead status.

"Cozy" replied Seras.

"Quite pleasant- I haven't seen this many skulls since the war of 1812." The priest gulped.

"Skulls, senor?" The creature grinned a little too broadly.

"We're guests in the City of the Dead downstairs in the catacombs, Father. But have no fear-they are good neighbours-they don't complain much." Integra lifted her platinum brow.

"_Play nice, Cheshire King." she warned mentally. He shot a knowing look at his master._

"_Of course-your wish is my command.." _Before there could be further conversation, mentally or otherwise, Maxwell entered with a beautiful, blonde woman on his arm and the Irish priest, Father Anderson to his left. The woman smiled bewitchingly, while the priest cast a civil, but stony look upon the table.

"Thank you for waiting, but I had wanted to show Mrs. Le Chat the plans for the Holiday Concert." Enrico stated. He allowed the woman to be seated first, then took his own place at the head of the table, meanwhile, his right-hand-man stood behind him.

"How good to see your company." Integra started "Father will you not sit down." The man shook his head.

"I'm not very hungry, Miss and I would prefer ta eat with human company, if ya don't mind." Alucard's eyes narrowed, while his ward attempted to conceal her growing terror like a brave tabby encountering a pit- bull. She had not forgotten the impalings that Anderson had given her in the past.The vampire rose.

"Master, I will gladly take my meal elsewhere I will be ready to escort you later. " He extended his hand to his ward. "Come , girl." The pair exited , leaving Integra with the mixed company. On her way out, Seras could not help but notice that the French woman she had met the previous night or two ago gave her a wink and subtle smile. There was a bit of an odd silence at the table as eyes shifted back and forth to one another.

"So, you are the director of the English organization, yes?", Mrs. Le Chat asked. Integra nodded.

"Yes, Sir Integra Wingates Fairbrook Hellsing. " She smiled warmly in return, and introduced herself.

"I'm Angelique Le Chat- I'm here with my husband Jacques-we're from the Saint Marietta Orphanage of Prince-au-Port, Haiti. Our children were requested to perform the Holiday choir for the convention." The servants began to dish out the meal-a thick tomato soup encrusted with Parmesan cheese and flaky bread sticks was a pleasant opening course. While the tension was easing out gradually, Integra could not help but exchange few strained glances with Father Anderson. He at least took the effort to politely ask a few questions about her arrival and how she was going to enjoy the performance later on. Inspire of everyone's best behaviour, she could still feel chills creeping up and down her spine, the feeling intensifying as the Bishop claimed the place to her right where her servant had been. During the main dish, Integra felt a light tickling sensation on the mid-section of her back; the Arch Bishop was brushing his fingers through a few strands of her long hair. She gave him a curious look.

"You had something caught in your hair, Miss." He produced a flower petal from his gloved fingers, and merely grinned a little. "Perhaps you bumped against one of the centerpieces." This was the second time today that the man had set hands on her hair- this morning he had made a comment about its length and brushed a strand out of her face as she leaned over her spreadsheets.

"Thank you." she replied flatly. She repressed the urge to kick him under the table, after all, she was a composed woman of twenty-seven, not a rash child of seven and- a- half. The meal progressed without too much trouble and the conversation between the other woman at the table grew interesting. They began to speak of the opera, which sent Maxwell into a long diatribe about the composer, the music, and of course, the subject matter.

"The libretto is about a cruel, haughty princess who wishes to never marry. She does not want to surrender her power and wealth to a husband, so she conceals her true name, hiding it in a riddle. Whom ever can guess it properly gains her hand, but none of the suitors succeed. She is a heartless woman who delights in tormenting those who only wish to love her- what do you think of this plot, Sir Hellsing?" Integra took a sip of her water and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps she is not cruel, but wise-power should not be given up so freely, and especially upon the whims of the heart."

"Would you call marriage a whim, madame?"

"The institution, no, the various emotions that may lead into it-yes." The priest said nothing and continued to eat in small, careful bites. Angelique chuckled into her napkin and the Arch Bishop stared back at her, hands tucked under his chin.

"It seems that we have a maiden lady here, Bishop." Mrs. Le Chat joked,"Perhaps she has so much that she does not want to share with a husband?"

"I am quite content the way I am, Ms. Le Chat." Sir Hellsing replied. The Frenchwoman flicked her hands open in a dramatic gesture, causing the bangles to jingle.

"Maybe you have not yet met the right man- after all, a good man is hard to find. I count my blessings everyday that my husband is in my life-such a kind, wonderful, devoted man...not to mention he takes his work very seriously."

Elsewhere-

Williams began to sweat, but his body was racked with violent fits of shaking, he was so cold-it was as if his whole being was encased in ice. His throat was beginning to burn and he desperately tried not to cough, it only made the dull ache in his head worse. The chills had begun early this morning, while the headache had been lingering since the previous night .Food poisoning-it had to be food poisoning Perhaps it was all the rich fare and wine that was being crammed down his gullet. He craved his wife's simple cooking-a good plate of mash and eggs would have really hit the spot right now. Slowly, he rolled over on his side attempting to comfort his throbbing temple, but the feeling intensified. His pyjamas were soaked and he desperately wanted a hot shower. His eyes began to flutter and close and the man drifted in and out of a feverish sleep. When he re-opened them, a tall, black man in a bright, orange shirt with a beaming grin was hovering above him with a small, steaming cup.

"Hallo, mate." he chimed . The colour was intense and his clothes seemed to glow with an incandescent light. "Here-I bring you something to make you sleep- your friend says you don't feel well, so here you go." He extended his hands and offered the blue cup to the afflicted man. Williams inhaled the aroma of pungent, green herbs.

"What is it?," he asked weakly. He hadn't had much to eat or drink for almost a whole day and was worried that it would not settle in his stomach.

"Herbal remedy from my hometown-fix you up, bon-bon, in no time." The man grinned wider, the two gold teeth in his mouth flashing . Williams sat up carefully, wobbling to his left. His nurse steadied him a little and handed off the beverage. He drank it carefully in tiny sips- the taste was light and the thick, hot liquid soothed his parched tongue.

"Remember to drink it all up-after all, we don't want you to only heal half-way." Instead of nausea , the man felt his whole body relax and a comfortable numbness ease into his head. The taste reminded him of some of the herbal teas that he liked to share with his family at home. Williams began to recline into his pillow, a delicious sleepiness overtaking him. Clumsily, he handed back the cup and muttered a bit of thanks to the man who had come to aid him.

"By morning, You'll be a new man,"Le Chat stated, "A whole new man indeed..."

Later-the Guest Room

"Now make sure that it's tight-good and tight-I don't want a single strand to come undone." Sir Hellsing ordered. Seras pulled her long cascade of golden hair into a pinned chignon, sweeping only a few strands over her forehead for personality. By some force of nature, or sheer luck, the girl had been able to sneak down into the laundry and retrieve a pair of her mistress' pants- a sharply cut pair of black velvet ones. The trousers had been paired with a almond-white, collared shirt, a nipped tuxedo jacket with satin lapels, and a silver ascot. The effect was quite becoming, reminding the little vampire of a 1930's movie she had seen where the woman had worn a tux and looked smashing. She felt that she didn't look so shabby herself; her choppy bob had been smoothed back with a some jeweled pins and she was clad in a Chinese dress of embroidered gold satin, the high slit revealing toned legs. The master himself had complimented her and told her she reminded him of a flute of champagne. Seras couldn't wait for him to see their mistress looking so polished and glamourous. Integra nervously toyed with a lock of hair.

"You look beautiful, Miss!" her servant exclaimed.

"Right now, vanity be damned-I just don't want that bastard touching my hair-it's like he has a fascination with it." Seras nodded in agreement and began to grab her mistress' coat. All of a sudden, she saw a shift in the shadows of the wardrobe mirror. A swirling veil of black and scarlet blinked with hundreds of eyes filling the looking glass. The average person would have screamed in terror, but the girl merely greeted the apparition.

"Hello master-are you getting ready, too?" the inky form shifted and merged into the shape of the vampire- he looked rather irked, standing arms akimbo. "Why don't you come into the room?"

"His 'holiness' does not wish for me to accompany you two to the opera house- but I have a bit of a plan." He pressed his palm up to the glass and grinned wickedly. "Let's just say that we're going to use his weakness to our advantage. " His master appeared behind the fledgling.

"Why aren't you present, Alucard?" she inquired. The creature bowed and stated his intentions. "Maxwell does not wish me to attend this function with you, master. He has placed relics outside my door, and posted Father Anderson to keep watch, claiming that if I leave my designated area, it will be seen as an attack on the household. I will merely have to follow you after you leave-it will be easy enough to lull the Priest to sleep and I can alter my appearance to keep close watch over both of you without being detected. Humour him for now, but let's see him squirm later." Integra faced the silver pane and pressed her palm up to the image's own.

"He's trying to keep us apart, but I think that we're a bit more resilient . I shall be with you soon, master." His body faded into a mist and the mirror returned to normal. Integra donned her coat and took a deep breath-it was going to be a long night.

1932's "Blue Angel"-Marlena Dieterich plays a night club singer in a top hat and tux-very sexy and gender-bendning for the time.


	12. Chapter 12

These Days

While neither Seras or Integra believed in fairy tales, this place struck that child-like chord of wonder in both of them. It was not the grand performance hall of Milan or Rome, but this beautiful music house had the charm of any of these more grandiose places. The carvings were ornate and delicate; angels and draped maidens hung off banisters and walls, while gold leaf glowed in the soft light. The rug was a rich ribbon of ruby and the chandelier cast a myriad of rainbows against the paneled walls. However, the place seemed quite empty. Usually, these events were crawling with the elite and cultured, but it appeared to be barely half-full. The Arch Bishop seemed very satisfied with himself.

"This is the premier of the performance-only the critics and a few of the city's art patrons are here tonight- the creme de la creme of society, so of course I had to offer my guests such an invitation..." he proclaimed. The women shot a knowing look to one another. The evening would have been perfect if they could have left the benefactor at home. The box seats were positions off to the right of the stage which was presently covered by a huge pair of thick crimson drapes. The orchestra tuned itself underneath them and the crackle of the audio could be detected.

"I can hear the actors getting ready behind the curtains." Seras informed her mistress. Her supernatural hearing allowed her all kinds of advantages, but this sense brought her delight this evening. She was excited about this event, but still kept her eyes focused on her duty and made sure the Arch Bishop kept a few paces a way from Sir Hellsing at all times.

Maxwell nestled himself into the plush, velvet chair and eyed both of his companions. The little vampire looked adorable in her Asian dress, the tight fabric accenting her ripe figure in a most becoming fashion. In spite of the fact that the little Protestant had insisted on wearing such mannish garb, it still accentuated her curves and made her appear elegant. Her hair had been pulled up and off her face allowing him to gaze upon fine features and catch a glimpse of the rich colour of her jaw line and the base of her neck The pale , blonde hair and the rich, copper skin was a tempting combination, like a latte with an extra dollop of cream. While lost a bit in his own thoughts, he was startled when he felt warm breath near his cheek.

"Sir, it's not polite to stare..." Seras' voice chided. She was leaning over him -the closeness would have been delightful, if she was not bearing her little fangs in a protective manner. He averted his gaze as the lights dimmed and the instruments started up. Sir Hellsing took her seat next to Maxwell and skimmed the libretto. Her Italian was rusty, so the printed translation would prove to be very useful. Slowly, dramatically, the curtains rose and parted revealing a grand stage; the costumes and sets were bright and colourful in a stylized Asian fashion, festooned with flowers and gems. All of the actors were well-cast with powerful voices. The leading male was handsome and his sound clear, though he did have some trouble sustaining notes for extended periods of time.

"Ah, these young men, they come on with a force that astounds their _immortata_ in the beginning of the duet, but lose passion and potency as the act continues. Such a pity-the song of love must be powerful, consistent, all consuming ." His gloved hand slipped cautiously to Integra's knuckles. She was a bit surprised, but did not shake his touch-she did not want to lose her place in the dialogue until the next song. He gazed directly into her eyes.

"In order for hearts to sing, one must keep that passion alive and let it grow into something...greater than itself." She could not read his emotions clearly-they seemed to swirl around in those sea-water eyes, but he inched his lips to her ear.

"You have no idea how much I have felt for you over these years, Integra, how much I have had to hold back and deny due to duty. What can I do for you to possibly show you how much I care?"

"Stop moving my finger on the program, and remove your hand from my person." she replied flatly. He dropped his hand like a weight and turned away, looking a bit hurt. The woman merely turned the page, while her servant was enthralled by the performance. The opera continued and the climax of the first act commenced, the house lights rose indicating the first intermission. Integra rose and fished a silver cigar case out from her jacket.

"I am going to smoke outside-Miss Victoria. I leave the the good Bishop in your capable hands." She departed leaving the little vampire with a slightly nervous man. As she made her way down the aisle, she felt a pair of eyes upon her. The lobby was sparsely filled with patrons, but the woman felt that it would be more polite to take her cigar outside the front door. She cocked her lighter and shielded the tiny flame against the winter wind Once the tip was ignited , she pulled a long drag and blew out a thick cloud of smoke that whipped in a crisp gale. Integra shivered and crept around the corner of the building to stave off some of the cold air.

"_Damn, I wish I had brought my coat.," she thought_. All of a sudden, she felt something warm envelope her shoulders. A plush, sable wrap draped around, warming her right up. Integra turned and was brought face to face with a beautiful, brunette woman in a burgundy, crushed- velvet dress with elbow-length gloves. She was a statuesque lady with a chiseled face, deep almond eyes and jet hair that hung in heavy ringlets round her features.. Wait! She knew these eyes-she couldn't be...

"Alucard?" she asked . The woman in question grinned revealing a pair of slight fangs .

"Yes, my master?," the creature purred. She took a step back and took a double look; hour-glass figure wrapped in wine velvet and beads, slender neck, and very full breasts...this was all just a bit too strange. "Didn't I tell you that I would come to watch over you?"

"I just wasn't expecting..._this_." The creature chuckled lightly and pressed Sir Hellsing's hand to his lips."Trust me, I can change back at will, unless, of course, you prefer me this way." He slid her white, gloved hand over his corseted stomach and hips, and his master turned scarlet."I just felt that the Arch Bishop would certainly not be expecting me in this form. " he guided her palm upwards, stroking soft rounded flesh...

"Not funny-stop this, immediately." He dropped her hand and allowed her to gain composure. She took an angry puff on her cigar .

"I'm sorry, it's just odd that you did not detect me sooner. I would still know you-and love you- no matter what form you might take on in the future." Tenderly, the creature stoked her cheek. In spite of such an outwardly change in appearance, Integra still felt all of his protective energy, the dark sensuality and almost child-like sensitivity, buried underneath the silk and velvet. She leaned up into his neck and kissed it gently, expecting the gesture to be returned. Instead, in one swift movement, Alucard plucked the smoldering cigar from his master's grasp.

"Hey!" she protested like a child whose favorite toy has been confiscated.

"Ladies shouldn't smoke." he teased, inhaling a deep breath of the expensive tobacco himself, and exhaling it in a deep, smoky kiss that stirred up the embers of his master's heart. She gasped when nails brushed over her breasts and his warm, wet tongue filled her mouth. When the two broke, he whispered in her ear.

"Stay out here a while, the Police Girl and I have some business to take care of with the Arch Bishop-then you can enjoy the rest of the show in peace." He pecked her cheek and handed back the cigar. Integra watched him walk away and still felt butterflies in her rib-cage, battering against her bones to be set free.

The opera was just beginning again when a tall, glamorous woman entered the box. Seras was expecting her mistress, not this lady, but before she could move in closer, she felt the presence.

"_Master?" she asked_. The 'woman' nodded, but put her pointer to her lips to prevent the guise from being blown.

"_Play along, girl. We'll put this bastard in his place." _His fledgling smiled. When Maxwell returned to find a particularly luscious brunette and the perky blonde awaiting him with soft smiles and hiked hems, he was not sure whether to run screaming or fall on his knees and thank the Lord for blessing him twice.

"May I help you , madame? Are you in the right box?" She approached him slowly, the hem of the skirt dragging along the floor like a pool of blood. The mystery woman placed her hand on his shoulder and murmured something in Italian. A grin split across his lips and he turned to speak to Seras.

"My dear girl, I have business to attend to with this woman. When your mistress returns, please tell her I'll be back before the end of the third act." The two made their way down to the lobby, anticipation quickening Enrico's pace.

"I cannot believe that Father Dollermo sent you on such short notice, my sweet. Shall we go to the Hotel Di Orlando-it's only a few blocks..." A pair of full lips silenced him.

"I think that the green room would be the perfect place for us." she cooed. "Follow me." The stairs under the theatre stage were the original ones built close to almost two hundred years ago. The theatre had once been a small, music hall at the turn of the last century and was rebuilt as a larger, modern place of entertainment. One stage co- existed on top of the other. They came down to the deep hallways and corridors that cris-crossed under the working stage serving as prop rooms, furniture storage and holding areas for the giant backdrops for the shows. In the far back , was what was once the warm up room for the actors. It was still in use to this day, though the dim light and narrow walls disturbed some of the performers-most of them preferred the bright, more spacious accommodations of the current level. However, the room did have its purposes...it was quiet, private, and had a few comfortable couches.

"Down here, we can be as loud as we want and no one will be the wiser." The Arch Bishop breathed as he pulled the woman to his lap. He wrapped his arms firmly around her waist and gave a squeeze. In a moment, she was flat on her back with the man shifting to be on top. He stroked her cheek and inhaled the essence of strong perfume and rich cigar smoke. While he had courtesans before, never any of them were this tall or exotic looking..He began to nuzzle and lick her neck, nipping lightly at her jaw.

"Your heart seems heavy, what's wrong?" she asked. The man sighed between kisses and began.

"The one I love has finally come into my life, but she is so cold-a heart of ice and snow. No matter how hard I try, she rejects me-my heart is breaking as we speak." He slid his hands up her shoulders, and trailed them back down,"Such a cruel, cruel woman- I think she's in love with another as well-will my torment ever end-er, um, you didn't mention your name?" She traced his jawline with a satin finger.

"That's not important- you poor, poor man-let me comfort you." Their kisses deepened but something felt very strange in the pit of Maxwell's stomach. However, building excitement silenced his quivering , inner-conscience . A smooth alto voice reverberated in his ear. "You want her, don't you?"

"Yes.," came his reply.

"Do you want her so badly that you'll stop at nothing to obtain her?" Her fingers caressed his temple.

"Yes."

"Do you yearn for her embrace so much that it feels like Hell without it?" His hands slid up her dress.

"Yes."

"Do you crave her flesh so much that no other will satisfy you?" Her nails dug into his slender shoulders.

"Yes."

"Do you desire her blood to flow in the veins of your future children?" His fingers slipped between the silk of her thighs.

"Yes, yes, God, a thousand times yes !" His mouth barred down in a hard, furious kiss, tongue scrapping against the roof of the concubine's mouth-warm, wet and wonderful, until he felt something rather sharp-a pair of them, in fact .His southbound hand was yanked violently out from under the skirt and with in a blink of the eye, their positions were reversed, the woman straddling him, holding his arms down , with a murderous grin on her face, and an entire mouthful of daggers greeting him.

"Looks like we're in competition then, aren't we?" she stated the voice deepening, turning from honey to gravel. Enrico screamed - but alas, with the second act in full progression, no one could hear his cries. He muttered prayers in Latin, but the creature laughed.

"Don't disgust me any further- your not fit to utter such things. You are by far no man of God... you seduce a few nuns, rape a handful of virgins and rut a few courtesans and you think you're Casanova- you bastard. You'll not touch a hair on either of their heads. Both of them are mine, and I protect what I love. " The man tried to squirm out from underneath, but the grip was iron- strong thighs crushed his hips, and the vampire was quite tempted to snap his thin wrists.

"What's wrong." he mocked,"I thought you like your women on top, or is that a little too dominant for your liking?" His nose was inches from his prey."I should drain you-I should suck every last bit of low-grade blood from your carcass leaving you for ghoul-that would be fitting wouldn't it? A rotting body to match your rotting soul." A long, serpentine tongue lapped against the man's cheek-he could taste the fear, the unadulterated panic racing through his veins. "But I gave my word to my _master_, my_ love,_ that I would not harm you. I made her a vow, and I keep my word. Every time you think of her, every time a bubble of lust stirs up in your loins, remember how much I crave your death, Maximilian." The creature rose, now more a mass of blood and shadows than a human form. Like a terrified animal, Maxwell bolted off the couch, scurrying across the concrete floor, desperately attempting to go back up the stairs. As he rounded the stairwell, a firm hand grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall

"I wouldn't suggest racing up the stairs like that-you might get ..hurt." a little voice breathed in his ear. The fledgling pinned him up against the stone wall, her lips close and her chest pressed against his. "After all, this is a formal event, please try and behave yourself just a bit. " She pulled back and grinned at him, eyes filled with bloodlust.

"Lord, protect us from the forces of darkness-I'm surrounded by devils!"

A tall, pale man with tangled shoulder-length hair, black as coal came up behind the girl. His shirt was white and flawless, while his velvet pants were the colour of dried blood.

"Water seeks its own level, Bishop. Take a breath, compose yourself and go up very, very slowly- don't turn around. You have my warning and my promise-for now. Remember my words..." The man treaded back up in silence, but the two vampires could hear the frantic beating of his heart in his chest. Alucard patted his ward's head.

"Good girl, well done."

"Master, can we go back upstairs? Miss Integra might be lonely by herself and I really want to see the ending. "

"Of course." He took her hand and escorted her back to the theatre like a proper gentleman.


	13. Chapter 13

Subdivisions

The night grew bitter cold and the wind whipped through the homestead, battering branches of trees against the window panes like intruders desperate to enter. While most of the occupants had retired for the evening, a few still stirred. The ride back from the opera house had been silent, the Arch Bishop mainly keeping to himself. While not sure of what exactly had gone on, Integra had the inclination that her vampires had a little 'conversation' with the man during the second act. She did not wish to stir up trouble, but it was a relief not to have the bugger against her every second. As she prepared for bed, Sir Hellsing felt a bit safer than she had in the past few days- her family once again had proved their loyalty. As she buttoned up the shirt of her pyjamas and prepared to settle in for a long sleep, she could not help but to smile a little and turn to the figure in the wardrobe mirror. Her servant, returned to his male form, made a small bow.

"Nice to see you back to your old self." she stated stepping closer."Did you play nicely with the Bishop?"

"Let's just say he will be a bit more respectful in the future." Alucard replied. His master pressed her hand up to the glass.

"Thank you." The vampire extended his fingers through the pane and pressed Integra's hand. The tingling feeling startled her, but then felt comforting. Before she could say goodnight, he vanished, leaving behind a hint of warmth on her palm.

Excitement and music still rung in the little vampire's head- she was too riled up to calm down. She had declined her master's offer to examine the west end of the household and took to exploring the surroundings on her own.

"I promise to leave the bishop alone and if I find or need anything, I'll call for you immediately, master." And with that, she melted into the shadows. Meanwhile, Alucard had a gnawing suspicion that after the confrontation of tonight, there could be something nasty in store for them soon.

Seras avoided the bedchamber areas, not wishing to repeat the embarrassment of the previous nights. She grinned a little to herself-after the trick her master had pulled, it would be a while until that bloody pervert would want to even get near a woman. The mid-section of the house had not been searched-out yet-including the kitchen. The creature padded downwards a level, following the myriad of scents that lead her to the enormous kitchen and pantry. It was twice the size of the one they had back home, and possessed a solid, brick oven. There was a heavy scent of oil and rosemary, rich herbs and sultry spices. The simple, clean smell of fresh bread made her feel quite comforted and there was the lovely, underlying whiff of chocolate, sugar, honey and cream. The sweet tones made her mouth water and reminded her of how Walter would whip up a cup of hot coco and blood for her on early nights.

"Poor fellow-I wonder what's he's up to with the holidays coming up so quick? So many more mouths to feed this time around-he'll be busy!" she stated to herself. The holidays would be grand-a year with new family, new friends, and plenty of time to relax... It would be a bit strange to not have her masters there, though. While her master did not particularly care for Christmas, she noticed that Alucard did everything in his power to make Sir Hellsing cheery and comfortable around this time.

"_He loves her-that's why he's willing to go the extra mile and see her happy." she thought _This would also be the first holiday 'alone' so to speak with the Captain. In spite of his pranks before she left, she missed him and was certainly looking towards returning. Maybe they would get a little tree this time around, decorate it a bit, put out some apples and pine cones... He had also mentioned something about doing a genuine French Christmas complete with the midnight prayers and fish dinner. A twitch of movement in the shadows broke the vampire from her thoughts and she froze-eyes darting to the shift in the dark. She inhaled quickly and pricked up her ears. A small cat drifted out of the corner-a ginger tabby with bright gold eyes-no magic reverberated from its form-it was just a house cat, plain and simple. It mewed softly and approached her timidly.

"Oh, it's okay, kitty, I won't hurt you, come here." she crouched down and extended her hand to the beast. It drew close and sniffed her fingers, then began to rub against them, purring lightly. It was a pretty creature- deep ginger coat marked with thick, marbled bands of orange complimented with a white chin and paws. Its eyes were beer-bottle bronze and questioned her. The fur felt smooth under her palms and she enjoyed its company for a few moments, before it let out a cry and trotted off. Seras rose slowly-she was still wearing her opera dress and did not want to split the seam at the thigh. She went in the direction of the cat and spotted a small table off to the left of the kitchen , covered with dried herbs tied in bundles. They smelled pungent and bitter- definitely not herbs for seasoning; perhaps they were medicinal purposed or for the bath. As she drew closer to inspect the bunches, a noise came from behind her.

"Kitty?", she asked. The vampire turned to face Mrs. Le Chat, clad in her colourful supper dress. She smiled and tweaked her brow.

"Not quite,_ mon ami_."

Elsewhere- The Study, Hellsing Manor-

Books, books, and books-that's all Lord Andrew was handling theses days. With his cousin a way and not constantly over his shoulder to remind him to keep increasing his knowledge on the un-dead, the young man had taken it upon himself to stay a breast on his studies. Right now, he was reading a fascinating document about Catholic-based religions. The Celts had blended the ancient beliefs with the teachings of St. Patrick, making a strong faith that was fervent to this day. The cultural mixing had proved to be very productive-the findings evident even in religious stories and especially in their art; the tribal knots bending beautifully with Catholic symbols and images- The Gospels of Dunhill, and the famous Book of Keils were a painted testimony to two cultures merging and thriving. However, some of the other variants were not as harmonious. Some of the Afro-Cuban religions, such as Voodoo and Sanatoria had darker sides that spoke of possession and curses. He took a sip of his cooling coffee and thumbed through a leaflet on how one made a zombie, or cursed living dead. There were similarities to this form of creature and the ghouls that they were used to destroying, but there was a definite difference.

The zombie, or _zombi, _was a human whose soul was indebted to a bokour or sorcerer_. "The soul is drained out by a process of poisoning the body, leaving the victim in a coma-like state. While helpless, the victim has the soul and human characteristics pulls out and separated from the body and held, like a captive, by the borkour. While the soul has departed from the physical form, the person will be able to function as if alive, but in a trance-they are still alive, yet not alive, for the essence of their humanity and personality are held captive. The zombie cannot feel pain and will obey the every command of its master. The soul can be returned to the body, but usually at the cost of its owner's life..." _the text proclaimed.

"What a bloody mess.." Andrew said to himself. Upon this, he head the doors creek open. Ah, good, old Walter with an additional cup of black coffee to keep him awake...

"You sir, are as bad as your cousin when it comes to research." the butler commented as he placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Lord Hellsing, complete with a pint of cream and a bowl of sugar. A small plate of fruit tarts followed behind.

"From your wife-she wants you to keep your strength up and then get to bed as soon as possible." Andrew smiled.

"Ah, my Hellsing duties and my husbandly duties are never quite done, are they, Chap?" The old man shook his head and smiled.

"If I were you, I'd give the later my attention a bit more-she did sacrifice her mango tarts for you." With that comment, Walter left, leaving the young man to ponder just how did one separate the divine from the corpal- was it like dividing up the whites from the colours in laundry, or was it pulled apart from the body, like the husks from grains of wheat? His mind was a buzz with questions and caffeine, voodoo and validation, curses and cures...There would be so much to ask Integra when she got back.

The Kitchen, Maximilian Villa-

"So you and your husband have been running the orphanage for twelve years?" Seras asked while sipping her glass of wine. The woman nodded. While she startled her at first, Mrs. Le Chat had apologized and offered a bit of a midnight snack to calm her nerves. The small meal had lead to some conversation paired with a light dessert, including the discovery of an extremely sweet muscatel that was the perfect note to compliment the pastries and left -over fruit. The table-candles glowed brilliantly making the cold room burst into life and warmth.

"We wanted to so help the children of Prince-au-Port that we opened up our home to them. The word spread, and then all of a sudden, we had too many to fit in our house. The various churches funded us to gain a larger piece of property and we built the shelter that we own now." Angelique said. She smiled warmly at the girl across the table- she was so pretty in the soft candle-glow and the amber sheen of her glass mirrored in her eyes.

"Are there many orphans in your country?" Angelique sighed.

"You have no idea- many of these children are abandoned by their families- most are addicts and others so poor that they cannot feed themselves. They cast their own flesh out into the streets so that they don't starve to death. Also, a large number of these children have witnessed their own parents die- AIDS is rampant in Haiti, so after they care for diseased parents, they now must watch after the little siblings left behind."

"Oh, that's so sad, I'm glad that your family is doing something to help. " the girl paused for a moment and swirled her drink, staring down into it."I lost my family myself, so I know that without some of the good people who supported me, I don't know what would have happened..." A gentle hand placed over her own, and the woman shot her a sympathetic look.

"It has made you stronger, much stronger." Seras smiled a little. "So, tell me, who is the company you are with? The tall man in black- is he your husband?"

"Oh, no, he's my master."

"And the woman- maybe your lover, perhaps?" The little vampire flushed a bit, but the woman patted her hand and laughed. "I'm just joking, it is so cute to see you blush, mignonette"

"She's my Master's master- my mistress. You were formally introduced to her at supper."

"I once served a fine lady myself in Martinique, but that was a very , very long time ago. Do you love your mistress, little one?"

"Of course I do, I would serve her until my last breath." Angelique took a long sip of her wine and drained the cup. She poured another round for herself and topped off the glass for her companion, in spite of her protests.

"Really-thank you, but I've had enough!" The wine continued to flow and the woman cast a sly smile.

"A cup for you-a drink to your lady. You like sweets, don't you?" The girl nodded. While Sir Integra did not care for them much, both of her vampires adored sweet foods; candies, cakes, rich liquors and plenty of sugar mixed into their blood or tea. Chocolate was a particular weakness for her master, and she quite enjoyed hot coco and anything with cinnamon. "Have some more muscatel- let's finish off the bottle before the Bishop does." The thought of besting that jerk was enough to have another sip or two...

"Cheers!" she exclaimed as she dipped into her glass once more. Mrs. Le Chat produced a small pouch with something that appeared to be cookies.

"These are pastillesde pastiches- would you like one?" they were wafer-thin and a light, rich brown, the size of communion tablet.

"What are they?" she inquired. The woman drew close and held one up to her nose-they smelled spicy, like ginger and coriander.

"They are little treats made from peanuts , ginger and cane sugar-I baked some for our children- would you like a taste? " She offered up the delicacy, but as Seras reached for it, pulled it away. The girl was confused.

"These are so fragile that if you don't know how to handle them-they'll break in your fingers..Please, allow me." She gestured for the girl to open her mouth, and compliantly the vampire responded. She only parted her lips a little, still a bit shy to reveal her pointed canines. Slender fingers pushed the bon-bon to an eager tongue. They were so delicate that it melted in her mouth.

"Would you like another- just one more for the wine?" Mrs. Le Chat whispered. She had inched closer and a tiny voice in the back of Seras' head chided a bit of a warning. But, she was being very kind in offering up a traditional gift- what harm could one more do?

"Yes, please.," Angelique dipped her finger in the golden wine and brushed it against her lips. She started deep into her eyes for a moment- deep grey against the burgundy-gold. Seras couldn't breathe. She leaned into her and whispered.

"You're such a good, dear girl, so loyal, so pure...I would suggest that you and your family leave here as soon as possible."

"They have to remain for the conference, I'm going to be-" he conversation was cut off by her finger to her lips.

"Then things will get very, interesting, mon ami." And with that she kissed her . The action startled her and she was too surprised to move back. Soft arms enveloped her waist and the kiss grew deep- Seras gently tried to push her away, but her grip was firm, determined. For a split second, she returned the action. The taste of wine and cinnamon rolled over her tongue and a delicate hand brushed over her full hips and rump. She was breathless and wanted more-more of the warmth and consuming sweetness that filled her being. Sharp nails dug into the slit of her dress, scratching skin, but the pain served as a siren.

As if woken from a dream, Seras pulled a way forcefully. Angelique lustily breathed something in French -a phrase that she had remembered the Captain whispering some time ago-it got him slapped, but the girl did not want to use such actions unless necessary.

"_Lord, why do the French always want to sleep with me?", she thought. _Angelique smiled and tapped her cheek.

"So, you are one of them- I've had plenty of experience with your kind." Seras did not know how to respond, but took a few steps out of her reach, the magic of the wine and candles deteriorating fast.

"I have to go-thank you. Good night." She hurried out of the kitchen, clinging to the sharp shadows and craved the safety of the catacombs. Seras wiped her mouth, the syrupy essence of the wine turning bitter and acidic in her mouth. She spat out the aftertaste on the stone steps and was horrified to see what came out with it- a few twitching maggots writhed in the spittle.

"Oh gross!!" She cried, and spat a few more times until the horrid feeling evacuated. Without a second thought, she dashed down the stairs to the lower levels. Back in the bath of the candle glow Angelique chuckled .

"Such a pretty, sweet thing..."

Elsewhere- Alter of the Sacred Rose

Prostrate on his knees Maxwell prayed, the cold from the stone floor seeping into his skin.

"Holy Mother, Queen of All Saints, here my prayer. I am a weak man, a sinful man, consumed by my own passions, beset by the sins of the flesh...but do I deserve such torment? I, the Corpial Arch Bishop? I the defender and protector of the faith? Virgin Mother-please, come to my assistance guide my hand and heart so that I may overcome my enemies and obtain all that will glorify you and our Holy Church...Amen. " He rose and steadied himself, reflecting on the events of this night-he was almost killed by the hands of the very devil himself. That bastard thought he was so clever, so powerful-he had no idea what or whom he was dealing with, Slowly, gingerly, Enrico pulled the small leather pouch out of his pocket and fingered a single rosary bead. He crushed the pale, glass bead down between his thumb and pointer, exploding the tiny orb in a shattering of pressure and blood. He pulled away his wounded digit and sucked the splinter of glass out, casting it out to the floor.

Elsewhere-

In a sweat-drenched bed, Serviceman John Eric Williams, bolted upwards, uttered a strangled scream, and fell back as dead weight into his pillow. The plans from Prince-au-Port had been set into motion.

Gospel of Dunhill and Book of Keils-Very famous Celtic Catholic illuminated manuscripts from the 9th and 11th Century, Ireland. The elaborate inter-locking images blend the rich, tribal art of the native Celts and Picts with the images of the angels, saints, and Christian symbols.

Sweet, wafer-cookies made for the poor out of brown cane sugar, ginger, coriander, and peanuts. They're about the size of a quarter, but can be much larger.

Mignonette -French-"Little, Dear One."


	14. Chapter 14

Angles and Angels

England never looked so good - Italy's weather was worsening and after the strange events from the current nights, Seras was looking forwards to heading home. The encounter with Mrs. Le Chat left her rather shaken, and her discomfort surfaced during a feeding. She shied away, and seemed uneasy under her master's touch.

"_Poor thing- afraid the whole world wants to use you- first the Bishop, and now this woman." _Alucard ceased his actions and held his ward snugly, soothing her frightened spirit.

"Are you afraid of me now too, little one?" he asked. She shook her head and clung tighter As much as other needs pulled at her, her desire to be reassured was strongest of all .It was a tender moment, and touched by no other feelings than to comfort and be comforted, but to Integra, she still felt a bit uneasy entering the catacombs with the two embracing. She preferred to keep her emotions under strong lock and key and such a public display of emotion left her unsettled.

"Miss Victoria," she started, "The flight back to London will be departing promptly at six, while you still have plenty of time, I want to make sure that you are prepared to leave and will be able to assume all of your duties as soon as you return home. I spoke to Andrew and he will absolutely need your help in all of the household functions in addition to all and any military action." the girl looked up at her and appeared to still be a bit overwhelmed. "Is this understood?"

"Yes, Miss." Sir Hellsing motioned for her servant to come close. She left her sire's arms and came to her mistress. While Integra still appeared authoritative as ever, she patted the girl's shoulder and eyed her directly.

"You are a very valuable asset to our household and all of us-especially Andrew and myself are assured that you, above all others will be able to serve and defend the homestead in case of any emergency in our absence. Do not have anyone's antics nor attitude change that, Miss Victoria." The vampire smiled and nodded.

"Yes Miss!" she replied, but with a brighter look in her eyes.

"Also, Servicemen Williams and Smith are getting prepared as well-in the next hour, please return the tie I borrowed and thank him for his help." Integra passed off the black silk to the girl and turned to Alucard.

"As for you, while you let her pack up, we have some simply 'wonderful' news-the Arch Bishop would like a private audience with us-in two days this whole place will be buzzing with the entire globe." The vampire nodded and drew towards her. "We need to get going-now." Alucard leaned in.

"I was in the middle of , um, having a snack-perhaps you could give us a few moments?" She thrust a tube of medical blood into his hand and shot him a business-like glance.

"That will suffice until latter-give this one to Seras." she handed him an additional piece to be given to the girl. "Come along now." The pair departed, leaving Seras to pack and sip her blood.

"I would like to attend this meeting as quickly as possible, so no more dallying." The vampire could sense her 'let's-get-this-over-with' attitude. He held the rich, bright blood up to the light-it still radiated warmth and Integra's noble essence. Nothing could compare to freshly squeezed, virgin's blood.

"Very nice-like a gourmet tid-bit -couldn't you have been a little more generous, though?"

"I bled myself out good and proper- neither of you will get a drop more. You're in Italy-think of it like an espresso shot." Alucard could not help but grin. With one swift gulp, he downed the sanguine and savoured the light, sweet taste. While the blood was a pleasant surprise, the negative energy that pulsed from the Arch Bishop's office slapped him like a fist to the chin. Integra knocked, and the voice inside bade her enter. When she opened the door, Maxwell sat behind his desk, eyes narrowing when the vampire entered behind his master.

"I have asked to meet with the head of the organization- not with you. I want you out, now." he stated to him .

"May I asked why you do not want my servant in your company?" Sir Hellsing inquired. The man's face took on a stony hardness.

"After what he did - what they both did the other night- I should cast these demons out of this home immediately!"

"And what, pray tell, did my servant's do to you? Miss Victoria merely acted as my companion and Alucard accompanied later, concerned about our welfare- you were seated in our box almost the whole evening."

"_What exactly did you do to him? He's furious!" she questioned mentally._

"_He tried to shag me on the couch during the intermission- I simply did what any other lady would do in my delicate position- scared the hell out of him." _

"_Oh Lord..."_

" _And by the way, he thought of you the whole time he was with me..."_

"_Oh Lord!" she shuddered to herself, not really wanting to know exactly what they were in the middle of when these black thoughts arose in his mind. _

"These creatures-and you- promised that their behaviourwould be fitting-this is a strict breech in policy !"

"You attempted to kiss my servant the other morning in a most inappropriate fashion, Bishop. That is why she lashed out at you. What actions prompted such reactions out of my other servant? Can you describe them, please? " The Bishop's eyes went wide, and he stammered a bit. To inform the woman that you were attempting to woo that you were beginning to make love to a courtesan while in her company was _not _a very smooth move. Enrico could see the smug smile spreading across the creature's face.

"_Caught with the hand in the cookie jar...how are you going to tell mummy about this one, hmm?" he countered. _

"_Wretched Demon from the Pits of Hell..." Maxwell hissed. The man sighed. This was a battle he was not going to win . _He sat down and let out a small puff of air.

"His company continues to make me..._uneasy_. Vampire, can you please wait outside as I speak to your mistress." The 'please' was strangled out, as if being polite to such a being was painful. Alucard bowed and exited silently. Integra took a seat and crossed her legs, a mask of impatience hardening across her features.

"Well, I'm waiting...what is your business, sir?"

" I have research that I would like to go through with you, including the creation, use of and destruction of ghouls, both supernatural and human-made. Since you have had much more experience with these creatures than I have I will need some information and first-hand accounts."

"Iscariot does not deal with the un-dead on a regular basis?"

"No, we have by far more interaction with cults, fanatics and human monsters, though we have done exorcisms as far back as our establishment's humble beginnings."

"When would have that been?"

"During the Restoration Period, roughly a decade after the Spanish Inquisition."

"So Iscariot grew out of Spain, not Italy?"

"Yes. My family was originally the Maximilias, based out of the ranks of the Inquisitors."

"_Lovely, even your ancestors were zealous dictators..."Integra thought._

"When we immigrated over to Italy in the 1780's, the name was altered over the years to have a more Italian flavour-I'm sure your family can relate. It was your grandfather, Viktor Van Hellsing who dropped the surname and changed the spelling for a more English appeal in the middle of WWI."

"Yes, he did. Well all have our adaptions to make in order to benefit the family."

"A very wise man-he built up many political allies, including the most radical of all-the alliance to the Protestant Knights of England with the marriage into the Fairbrooks family-cleaver man, to gain such power and wealth with such a move..." his voice trailed off.

"I thought that you wished to discuss ghouls, not my elabourate family tree, Arch Bishop."

"Will you not call me Enrico, or at least Maxwell?" Integra cast him the look of a cat ready to strike out its claws.

"I am happy to honour you with your _proper _title, sir. I do not believe that we are on such intimate terms that I may address you otherwise." The Bishop rose and retrieved a large folder containing several sealed documents which he pried with a thin, silver letter opener. One by one, he handed the charts, documented information and photographs to the woman.

"Children, these are almost all children-I don't understand. You said we were going to discuss the un-dead."

"This information is collected from Haiti and the bordering Dominican Republic. It is tragic enough that both of these countries teeter on the verge of poverty and chaos, but a very different type of threat will overcome their population if we don't act quickly. Are you familiar with Voodoo, Sir Hellsing?"

"I have done my fair share of research on it, though I cannot say that is my speciality."

"While much of this Pagan filth has a direct linking to Catholics blending their faith and attempting to convert the slaves and natives, it's dark underbelly had taken a very modern twist to the oldest forms of their cursing. Zombies, the walking dead-they are similar to the corpse servants of vampires, but I'm sure that the most disturbing difference is that while a ghoul is a dead body without a soul, these are living people with their souls held for ransom." Integra's focus was momentarily distracted by a photo of a young girl with chocolate skin and amber eyes-she could not have been more than six with a beaming smile and braids.

"How is the process done?" she asked.

"While some of the traditional ceremonies are still shrouded in mystery, there is a chemical component in both processes. Once the victim is drugged, the enslavement can progress. For example, the sweet, little child you gaze at murdered her whole family of eight with a machete under this poison." Sir Hellsing placed the picture down with an ill feeling.

"There are currently factories in both Haiti and its Mother France that are producing mass quantities of the drug to be distributed to some of the most helpless in the culture-their orphans and abandoned youths. Imagine, an entire army of the walking 'dead' so to speak, who will work without falter, kill upon a whim of their controllers , and continue to go on until their bodies rot. With so many of the un-known and un-wanted filling the street, there is a never-ending supply of soldiers."

"What can I aid you with ?" Maxwell began to lean in, and folded his hands across his desk.

"I want you to prevent this happening, my dear director with one, single word... I propose a union, both political and personal with my household and yours...say 'yes'...

Elsewhere- The Guest Rooms-

"Hallo-can I come in?" Seras inquired from outside Serviceman Williams door. She couldn't really enter a human's room without permission according to her vamipric nature, but also she had manners-the man might be in the shower or indispose. She was a bit confused when Serviceman Smith opened the door instead.

"Sir" she stated with a bit of a casual salute, he returned the gesture. "Is Mr. Williams in-I want to return this from Sir Hellsing." She produced the tie and handed it to the man. "Is Mr. Williams feeling all right?" Mr. Smith shook his head.

"He's been sleeping all day, and he doesn't look so good- he claimed to have food poisoning yesterday, but we need to get going later this afternoon." Seras entered the room quietly and studied the figure on the bed. His skin took on an ashen hue, and while human breathing was subtle, even she could barely hear it. The dull, slowed beating of his heart was also very, very soft. She drew closer, and could sense Smith's nervousness. While many of the servicemen and soldiers had grown accustomed to having a vampire in their ranks, they still grew suspicious of having Seras in close company. She knelt down as whispered to the man.

"Mr. Williams, Mr. Williams are you awake?" The man's eyelids fluttered, and a dull groan rose in his throat, but the rest of his body did not stir. She placed a gentle hand to his forehead and was a bit shocked to feel just how cool he was. Both she and her master could get ice-cold if they did not feed regularly, but this human was teetering on that kind of chilly. However, she felt no supernatural presence, nothing that would indicate something forced by a magikal hand. ( If only her master was there, he would tell her a completely different opinion, but her lack of experience could not be faulted-after all, she was still just a fledgling.)

"He's got food poisoning alright-the sweats, the chills and he looks like a soft-boiled egg."she stated while backing away from the bed. If you cannot rouse him up by the time we leave, perhaps the local hospital would be best." She saluted her fellow enlisted man and departed. Smith went over to his comrade and patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, mate, you'll be home before tomorrow and we'll all be fine and well for Christmas." However, when the damp cold touched his fingers, Smith wondered how this man would ever get warm again...

Elsewhere- The Alter of the Blessed Rose

With their meeting dragging on, the vampire explored the sanctuary. Alucard was neither afraid nor disgusted by churches. The ancient structures fascinated him as a tribute of man's never-ending devotion to God through steel and stone, marble and miracles, bronze and beatitudes . After all, he had remembered keeping his own knight's vigil when he was alive, praying for the might and glory of the Almighty to touch his own humble human hands in battle. But those were long years ago, in another time and life. He stole over to the table of candles captured in crimson glass. With a flick of his hand, they all came into a blaze, illuminating the statue of the Virgin Mary above .

"And a good afternoon to you, Lady." the vampire stated, dipping his brimmed hat. It was a bit ironic; while he had so much anger and contempt for the greedy, hypocritical dogs of the Church, his feelings for the Mother of Christ remained chaste and unblemished by his angst. After all, she was a dedicated, loyal woman who watched her own son become ostracized, tormented, and was present even at his criminal's execution. This lady deserved none of his hate, and while so many wars and battles raged on in the name of "God", none were ever waged for this woman's honour-she was able to prove that upon her own merits.

"_I've gone daft over the years," he mused to himself 'The Prince of Darkness enthralled by the Holy Virgin." _Ah, maidens- it seemed his fate to be surrounded by them for eternity; the taste of his master's mouth lingered in his for the entire night after the opera clouding his head more than any fine Tokay could ever accomplish. Her rich, pure blood stirred emotions deep in his heart. Each day, they grew closer and the thought of her touch, her warmth, her bloodline singing within his was maddening. Her heart, body and soul were treasures that he would be honoured to be bestowed with. While he had known and loved dozen upon dozens of men and women in his life and after-life, she was unique, a person of rare qualities and character that perplexed and amazed him at the same time.

Integra was a being of contrasts- gentle grace and fierce strength, a man's determination and a woman's charm, and perhaps the most dangerous and irresistible complement of all- a pure, pure body of ice with a raging heart of fire buried deep within. It had taken years to melt that frozen landscape and the buds of passion were beginning to break through like spring's first bloom. Alucard wondered when the great thaw would finally become complete, but he had immense patience- whenever she was ready, his heart was hers.

His gaze cast over to a carved angel, a cherub flitting into the corner of the room; a thought of his own _angelito_, crossed his mind with tenderness. She'd grown into a fitting Creature of the Night- noble, strong, and brave. He also sensed that her virginal core was still as solid as ever, but so much more pliable than it was when he first turned her. Integra was forged of steel and cold, while Seras was confected of sugar and heat. She was so loyal, so happy to serve and bring him joy, that it would be too easy to pull her honour away like stripping a berry from the vine, but he would not claim her, not yet anyhow, even though he sensed that same yearning in her pure soul that drove Mina into his bed so long ago.

She trembled in his grasp and her chaste blood spoke volumes of love and desire with each feeding. Ah, such lovely thoughts, but the reality was she was heading back into the warm arms of her French Captain who had been hinting at engagement rings and an adorable apartment in the East End of London. For a moment he sighed-poor chap, he honestly did like him, but he would have to get used to the idea of sharing. After all, he was a bit possessive of his girl...

"And what are you thinking about, Monsieur?" a soft voice inquired. The figure of a tall woman swathed in a black cloak drew near. The scent of pungent herbs, smoke, and the dust of centuries clung to her. The vampire tipped his hat in a respectful manner and took in her face and form-it was the same woman that had come to supper on the arm of Maxwell, and who had tried to take advantage of Seras.

"I am merely admiring the fine carvings of this church." he stated

"Oh, I thought you might be praying."

"I do not pray, madame- I care not to waste my breath."

"Such a cynic, but then again, I like cynics." She extended a hand amicably . "I'm Mrs. Le Chat, we were briefly introduced at supper." Alucard kissed it, and sensed the magik coursing through her skin.

"_Human, but not mortal...dammit to Hell, not another witch..."_

"This church is rumoured to be at least three-hundred years old-can you imagine just how many people have come before us to pray and marvel at its beauty? This is a wonderful place." she said Alucard started up at the statue and back to the woman.

"Perhaps, if you ask her, you might get the right year- I believe it's three-hundred and sixty-eight, but I could be wrong." He began to leave, when the woman spoke.

"Please give my best to your ward, she was charming company the other night." Alucard nodded and walked away, disgust building in the depths of his stomach. This whole, 'Holy' place was filled with harlotry and hex-craft...now he remembered why he had such disdain for the Catholic Church. As Angelique watched his retreating form, she gritted her teeth.

"_The place is filled to the brim with them-Mon Deiu! Am I always to be surrounded by vampires?"she thought. _

Tokay- A very rich, very sweet golden wine from the Turkey/Baltic areas. It can be extremely expensive and very intoxicating. The wine would be found in places like Romania, so it's a fitting beverage.

Technically speaking, a fledgling belongs, body and soul to his/her sire. While the relationships can vary from platonic, to teacher/mentor, to romantic, erotic and everything in-between , Alucard still cares for her more in a protective/familiar way, though it is starting to creep up in a more carnal manner. However, there is plenty of love, honour and respect- he just doesn't have the heart to take advantage of her. I've been debating whether or not to have it progress in a particular direction, but that, dear readers, may not happen until a very long way down the line. Remember, Vlad was used to having a harem of secondary wives and a head wife- while he understands the romantic relationship between the Captain and his ward, poor Pip may have to come to terms with "sharing". (Hey, he's French, they tend to have a bit more of an open mind than us Americans on these matters so let's see how it goes... )


	15. Chapter 15

Ice Age

The words that escaped from Sir Hellsing's lips were not at all what Maxwell wanted to hear. Instead of a melodic 'yes', a placating ' Oh, of course darling' or more breathless answers, she merely looked at the man wide-eyed and cocked her brow.

"What?" was her singular answer.

"All of this impending horror could be prevented-and it's completely in your hands." he countered. For a moment, she paused, pulled out one of her thin cigars, sparked it up and pulled a heavy drag.

"Arch Bishop-what kind of sick joke is this? I give you an entire week of my life, my precious, non-returnable time and you play these games? What kind of man are you? Are we here to work together on this case or is this just some sort of mind game for your twisted amusement?"

"Senora, this is a very real proposal and a very real threat- I state my case clearly before you- by joining our houses together, we can indeed prevent this travesty from happening. "

Integra tapped the ashes into the glass tray .

"So what do you want- money, public approval, a happy little truce between our two organizations?" Maxwell leaned in.

"I have no need for any of that -I have more funds than imaginable and I need no truce with Pagan Dogs from the Anglican Church. What I want is a personal joining of our households." The woman looked bemused.

"Why my dear Bishop, are you going to get down on your knees and propose? Shall I take off my gloves? Stop being ridiculous ! You're a priest of the Catholic Church-and I cannot personally stand you! Did you call me in here to aggravate me or to conduct business" she exclaimed. The Arch Bishop sighed and steadied his composure.

"Sir Hellsing, you will be singing a very different tune when this is brought down on the roof of your own home.." his voice trailed off.

"What of my family, Maxwell?" she countered, her defenses rising. The Bishop stretched his hands and folded them in front of himself with a look of mock-concern.

"Such a pity- you all had just gotten back together-reunited by the bonds of love- so touching. Your cousins are both such fine, young men-Andrew with his military decorations and and the younger one being such a talented painter...not to mention your sweet aunt- a true English Lady from what I've been told. She must be so relieved to have her domestic life back to a happy pace..."

"What does my family have to do with any of this?"she growled.

"It would be such a shame, such a tragedy to have anything, _unfortunate_ happen to them, wouldn't it?" A snarl formed across Sir Hellsing's face.

"Are you making malice against my household? How dare you! " She lunged forwards, grasping the letter opener, banishing it close to his chin like a dagger. "No one, no one, threatens my family, my men or my servants. You cowardly pig-to strike out at those most innocent-is that how you came to this rank in power?" Enrico just stayed calm, slow smile spreading over his lips. While the cool metal tip of the tool pressed against his flesh, the smoldering look of anger made Integra's eyes bright and vivid, the blue becoming sharp and electric, while a slight flush of colour ignited her cheeks- he had never seen her look so _passionate_ before.

"I never make empty threats, my dear, nor do I propose empty promises. Think of it-two of the most powerful heads of society coming together. Besides, don't you need an heir for your organization? It would be so sad if Andrew and his wife perished before another generation could be formed." he pursed his lips . The tip indented itself into his chin.

"I should skewer you." she hissed.

"Not before you hear me out, _cara mia. _Join with me, come to me and gain power more than you could ever hope for - an entire legion of those who would gladly die for you without a second thought-you would have power-absolute, unadulterated power over their every move-does that not entice you, does it not cause a shiver down to the base of your spine?"

"No."

"Then if you do not enter my household, I shall crush out your family, your armies, and even those pets of yours before you can even think. After all, with so many to operate and command, I merely have to say the word..." The woman's eyes grew wide.

"So you have a hand in this? But, I thought you were trying to stop this nightmare" Maxwell shrugged.

"We can stop it once you've married me, turning this 'nightmare' into a triumph for the world to see."

"But these are children-how could you use them! You're an orphan yourself"

"On the contrary-I'm a _bastard, _I have parents- I just refuse to recognize them and they likewise for me."

"You_ are _a bastard-a sick, conniving one! How in the world did you and your lackeys come up with this?"

"Please, do not associate Anderson with this idea-I must claim sole ownership of this. "He pushed the silver shaft out of his face and peered deep into his advisory's eyes."All you have to say is 'yes' and all of this turns to become the benefit for us all."

"Stupid sot- you can't even marry if you wanted to- wouldn't that go against your precious dogma?" she smirked.

"Ah-technically yes, but under the Rosa Maria Contract-I most certainly can. "

"What nonsense are you blithering about now?"

"There was a legal doctrine deemed legitimate by the Catholic Church in the 13th and 14th Centuries, that allowed a priest, cardinal, bishop, or even a pope to marry a noble woman legally adding their property, and wealth to the Church. In addition, the marriage gave the woman protection and spiritual amnesty. With such a force moving against your family, wouldn't it be wise to make such a union?"

"Hell, no!" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Then reap the consequences-the blood of your family and these unfortunates will be on your hands, Sir Integra." She began to laugh.

"Ah, you always did like drama... So what are you going to do to me- lock me up in a tower until I say 'yes', dress me up in a pink, fluffy ball gown and crown and beg for you in some dungeon? You are not dealing with a princess, but a Knight of the Protestant Royal Order. I will not lay down for you or anyone."

"Do you lay down for that monster you call a servant, _puta_?" She went to strike his face when his hand glided up in an instant and blocked it.

"Now, now, a lady should control her temper." He twisted his hand around her wrist and pulled her close to him, mouth inches away from her snarling lips. "By tonight, you will see that I am not bluffing- now, be on your way, my dear, I have heads of state to meet-I look forwards to supper with you this evening. " He pecked her lips quickly, leaving the woman shocked. Integra was readying herself to lash out at him when the door opened, Father Anderson waiting at the portal.

"Did ya call, Bishop?" he asked, curious why the little Protestant and priest were so close together .

"Oh, no, everything is fine-we were just having a heated debate, that's all." Integra proclaimed. She did not want to stir up violence in this house- not yet, anyway. The Arch Bishop looked smugly at her-she wanted to wipe that sickening smirk from his face-preferably with a sledgehammer. "Good day, Bishop." she stated as she left, passing by the tall, imposing priest without a word.

"What's eating at her?" Anderson asked. Maxwell seated himself comfortably down and licked his lips- the lingering taste of her tobacco dusting them.

"She just has a very strange opinion of what is good for her- ah women, they never know when to say 'yes' or 'no', do they?" The priest just shrugged more confused than ever.

Elsewhere- The Courtyard

A long line of children wrapped up in thick coats and scarves marched out from the main doors of the villa to the courtyard. After they had all been accounted for by Sisters Yumkio and Mariana, they burst out of their formation and started to play , running and skipping around the benches, trees and stairs. Their voices were filled with joy and enthusiasm as they bounded around the yard. Mariana watched them with a heavy heart- she was thrilled with their progress, the hard work that they had displayed during each rehearsal , but her personal life was starting to spiral downwards.

While the Bishop still bedded her regularly, it seems that he grew more and more distant after each tryst. His mind appeared to be on other matters. The delegates were beginning to arrive from America and Europe, so it was natural that his attentions should be directed at his convention and guests, but there was something cold and detached that surfaced in his eyes even when they were alone. She took a deep breath and swallowed a few tears that were beginning to surface. She felt a tug at her coat's sleeve and looked down. Marguerite, one of the littlest girls in the choir looked up at her, the deep eyes mirroring all the concern that the five-year-old could muster.

"Are you sad, Sister?", she asked, small hands grasping tightly around her wrist. She smiled and lied.

"Oh, no, no, I'm just very tired ", as she punctuated the statement with a huge, exaggerated yawn. "I've been staying up late to make sure that the music is up to date for your concert." A wave of excitement washed over the group as a few large, black cars or limousines pulled up and dropped off men and women who were quickly escorted inside. Marguerite pointed and stared at the strangers.

"Are they the people we're gonna perform for?" she asked brightly.

"Yes, they are, but it's not polite to point, Maggie." The little girl looked upset, but then her face lit up as a beautiful, young woman passed by-with a very huge companion, his face concealed by dark glasses, a wide-brimmed hat, and a thick scarf. Sister Yumiko was aiding one of the more elderly visitors into her wheelchair from the car that had just parked, and several other clergy and servants were doing their part to be helpful.

"Do you want to help me gather up your friends to the other side of the courtyard? I think these people may need some breathing room!" The girl complied and held her hand as they went off to chorale the children to a further section of the yard. From a bit of a distance, Father Anderson looked on.

"Hmm, it does seems ta be a bit much ta have all of these people get together like this, but if it's for the good of the organization..." he said to himself. He shook his head. Ever since Maxwell had been promoted to Arch Bishop, he seemed to be more focused on showing the entire world the extent of his power and wealth, rather than actually going out and fighting the battle for the Lord. He had gotten his hands bloodied a few times- an assistance with an assignation here and there, collecting information on the Heathens and Unfit of the World, but it was his ability for leadership that projected him into the ranks that he now possessed. While his motives were certainly questionable, there was no question about his ability to get what was needed accomplished. He had often stated that if one wanted to obtain Heaven, they first had to dish out Hell-blackmail, threats and foreclosures were all common tools of his trade. If Machiavelli was alive today, he certainly would hand his hat off to Enrico.

For a moment, Alexander was distracted by the voice of Sister Mariana calling the children over to her. The man released a heavy sigh; he was not as thick as he appeared. Women and girls, whether unattached, married, or committed to the order were all fair game to Maxwell and he played endlessly. While he had the knowledge of what was going on under this very roof, he could not utter a word, and that tugged at his conscience horribly, like a speck of dirt just under the lid of an eye- it seemed invisible, but burned and dug into him daily. Silently, foolishly he hoped that the little nun had resisted, but that idea came crumbling down when he had seen how the pair looked at each other and he had witnessed a less-than-chaste kiss the other evening. The way that his fellow priest looked at the Protestant Knight disturbed him even more. While true, Anderson did not care for her, nor her demon pets, at least the woman was honourable, and kept her actions decent. Every time the Arch Bishop beheld her, Anderson could feel the heat roll off Maxwell in waves- lust, want, need-it was all there. He was still in so many ways a needy, greedy child who would stop at nothing to obtain the toy or plaything he desired. In spite of their conflicts, he did not want the Hellsing director to become that rag-doll.

"Lord help us all." was all he could mutter as the snow began to fall smoothly from dense clouds.

Elsewhere- The Catacombs

_The dream was wonderful, absolutely wonderful; thick ribbons of black smoke filled the air as an Ottoman foot soldiers fell before a single swish of his sword. His horse brayed shrilly and the great beast charged forward, knocking unfortunates out of his path. The atmosphere burned orange and scarlet, and the resounding echo of the trumpet blared. However, then the climate changed, and the sky dulled to an aching grey punctuated with brilliant flashes of silver lighting. The horse had vanished, but the creature was still racing, diving over modern-day warriors, there heads and torsos sliced through with a flick of his wrist. However, an energy, a ferocious, fantastic spark of power lead him to the edge of the battlefield A figure in armor with long, trailing hair the colour of sheared wheat was decimating the enemy left and right, dispatching ghouls and evil humans alike with a slice of a long, silver broadsword. He was mesmerized- it was like a carnal ballet of blood and motion, destruction and grace. He could not look away, and when the warrior turned to reveal the face, his heart burst with pride. _

_Her visage was covered in blood and ash, eyes sapphire and stone-determined set on her prey, the line of her mouth firm with concentration as each fiend was sent to Hell. She was beautiful, deadly, and oh so familiar. _

"_My Durga..." he whispered, and though she still completed her task, he knew that she had heard him. When the last was destroyed, she thunked the well-worn blade into the earth and approached him- her hair was matted with the blood of her enemies and her armor battered and broken, but she was victorious. Without a word, she grabbed and kissed him, roughly, passionately, every fiber of her being calling out to him that she was now ready to be his. The vampire cupped her chin and returned that fierce affection pulling off the steel and silk , wanting nothing more in the whole, wide, wild world than to hold and have her ..._

"_I am yours ", she whispered, " I always have been I..." _A loud, repetitive knocking cut off the end of the blissful scene.

"_Bloody Hell, " he snapped_ _"Can I EVER get to the good parts.."_ The angered voice of his master bade him to open his casket. She was furious-her eyes were like flint and her face flushed with fury.

"Servant !" she snapped, "I want you, no I order you to eat that damn Bishop-have him for tea! Get that bloody bastard out of my sight!" She was breathing so hard that her breasts rose and fell sharply- not appealing, but frightening that her thin frame could house all this rage. Alucard rose calmly and extended his arms to his master who batted them away-her hands were clenched into tight fists and she was not above lashing out when she upset.

"Master," he addressed her, tone soft and even, "What has happened calm down and tell me."

"That pig has drummed up a little plan to abuse my family and other innocents- I have no idea if he's just playing some twisted game for his own perverse amusement, or if he really has a trick up his sleeve, but he wants me, me, to be the catalyst."

"How so?" Integra took a sharp breath and began.

"He claims to have part in a plan that will create zombies in Haiti, predominately using orphaned children as subjects. If I comply with his wishes- to join our households via some sort of documented marriage, I can save all these children and prevent an army of the walking dead on my doorstep." the vampire looked amused.

"So, I take it he's not the flowers and candy type- after all, nothing says, 'I love you' like threats of death and destruction..."

"You are trying my patience."

"And you are disturbing my rest. If you must be upset, best to sleep it off. Come inside, lie down for a bit." The creature motioned for Sir Hellsing to join him in the spacious coffin. She took a step back.

"Are you daft? That is a coffin, a casket, a place of final rest-there is no way in Dis that I would lie down in that!" she exclaimed.

"I join you in bed when you need me to keep watch over you."

"That's different" Alucard patted the satin pillow and gestured to its softness.

"It's quite comfortable- before I can have his holiness as a snack, we both must deal with him this evening at the introduction ceremony, if you don't calm yourself now, there's no telling what may occur later. Besides, if he does want to have his way with you, he'll expect you to be resting in your room, not down here within my chambers."

Integra sighed-unfortunately, he was right. Reluctantly, she climbed inside.

The space was snug, but not entirely uncomfortable. Satin lining felt smooth and sensually slick beneath her hair. She stretched out her body and felt her servant's form curve to hers, arms wrapping protectively around her waist.

"You have been in a constant state of tension since you got here-a week of angst can't be good for you." he stated, fingers gently massaging her knotted stomach.

"The nerve of this man is atrocious- no one threatens my family, army, or servants-no one! Whom does he think he is dealing with!!"

"He thinks that he is dealing with a woman, a scared, easily pliable woman- he does not know what you really are."

"Am I not a woman?', she asked softly. Her servant's fingers trailed up the side of her breast. Even through her layers of vest and shirt, he could feel the pulse of her veins and the heat of her flesh. In spite of her foul mood, she cold not help but to relax under the pressure of his hands. Slender fingers un-knotted the ascot and gingerly stroked the rich skin of her clavicle, tracing up and down her neck. A soft sigh caught in her throat

"You are, a most exquisite one at that, but you are a knight, a warrior, a sister of steel and strength- don't let a hollow man cause you to debase that." Slowly, his hand trailed up her shoulder and caressed her cheek

"He attempted to kiss me."

"Did he succeed?"

"I still feel his touch on my mouth -yuck!" The creature turned her head and kissed her, his smooth tongue sealing their union The woman pulled back after a few licks.

"Better-thank you." she pecked his forehead before kissing him again gently. Her lips pursed his chin, then brushed down against the neck, nipping flesh slightly. The sensation of teeth, though human, was delicious. He pulled in a sigh, and buried his fingers in the silk of her hair. The bite's pressure increased, and he could sense himself slipping off into bliss, as she suckled and lapped the tender area

"_Take all of your frustrations out on me, " he purred, "You can bite me, scratch me-do whatever you want to feel less agitated..." _The vampire could feel the blood rise to the apples of her cheeks and sensed temptation building. "_Am I not your servant? I would agree to whatever you desired, my Lady..." _Frightened of losing control she ceased her actions and nuzzled his cheek- a much safer place to display her affections. Alucard chuckled.

"_Hmm, it always stops short when we get to the good parts."_

" _I desire rest and some aspirin if I cannot have Maxwell's head..." she replied_ She turned to the opposite side enjoying the heat from his body and the cool, enveloping darkness of the coffin. While she did not want to make a habit out of this behaviour, (after all, coffins were for the dead, not the living, ) it was very comforting. Alucard positioned his arms around her, but did she not seem to protest when a palm cupped her bosom. Sir Hellsing exhaled a deep breath and settled her body in for a calming nap. She had no idea that within just a few hours, her entire world would come crashing down...

Puta- Italian for Harlot

Don't worry-let's just say a very appropriate super-natural couple comes to enjoy Italy for a while... you'll know who they are later on-Cheers!


	16. Chapter 16

24 Hours

_Dear readers, no one got the Joy Division references for the titles...sob ...I must be getting old..."Panic's" titles were all based off of Smith's songs. I just figured that for this genre, moody, early '80's British Gothic/New Wave bands would provide a fitting soundtrack. "Panic on the Streets of London" was used in "Shawn of the Dead" - if ever you could cross a comedy with "Hellsing" it would work quite nicely. (After all, can't you just see Seras giving Liz's break-up speech to Pip? Also, since not every one in the British populace can handle a silver- nitrate laden pistol, I suggest cricket bats to defend the homestead from ghouls )_

The plane touched down on England's soil around quarter of nine-there had been a slight delay due to in climate weather, but the flight was pleasant enough. Serviceman Smith shot a concerned look at his companion seated next to him. While he had been able to rouse Williams from his coma-like sleep, the man still seemed dazed, half-awake. Miss Victoria was comfortable inside her coffin in storage, and Smith just sighed and continued to sip his second cup of apple juice. He wished that he could have had a stiff drink, but he wanted to be sharp if his comrade needed anything. So far, the man had barely said more than a few sentences all day and had eaten nothing.

Seras could feel the rumble of the engine and the motion slowing down to a gentle crawl from the depths of her casket. She had taken a light nap and brought a bit of music on an I-Pod; while the opera had its aggravations, the music stirred up an interest in Puccini - "La Boehme" was currently playing in her ears and she thought it very romantic. The girl hummed along with one aria, and the music touched something deep within her. She longed to be home and preferably snug on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, and her Captain's palm in the other. Her thoughts did trail over to the servicemen above-she hoped that Mr. Williams was feeling better- at least he was able to get dressed and board the plane, but he still didn't look very good. Seras also thought of her masters as well; Miss Integra would be alright with the Master watching over her, he would see that no harm would come out of that nasty man. What a pity-she didn't get another chance to frighten him before she left- hopefully she wouldn't see that sorry excuse for a priest ever again. Her sharp ears caught the click of the stairwell as the passengers were exiting the large jet and she prepared to have herself jostled again once more like luggage.

"_One day, I'm going to fly First Class.." she thought _.

Elsewhere- The Grand Ballroom, Maximilian Villa

Light jazz filtered through the air and lights were dimmed to a comfortable glow. Red and white lace tablecloths adorned the round settings complete with crystal vases filled with full-leafed poinsettias of matching colours. The room was alive with chatter as delegates from across the globe gathered to converse introduce themselves to one another, and enjoy the Asasti Spumanti that flowed like water. However, there was little merriment coming from one corner of the room. At the edge of the stairwell, Sir Hellsing paused like a willful child, determined not to go to the party. While she looked regal in a platinum -satin evening sheath, with full skirt and high, Nehru collar, her face was set in a rather nasty scowl. Her servant adjusted his tie, looked at his pocket-watch, and attempted to counter her foul mood.

"Stop being so stubborn - show your face for at least a moment, and then we can leave." he stated.

"I'm tempted to get a flight back to London tonight- I don't want to be in same room with him."

"There are plenty of other people to surround yourself with- some of them look quite interesting. Are you going to let one, measly man keep you from being your glorious self?' She raised an eyebrow to him.

"Piling it on thick tonight, hmm?"

"With a trowel, but do come along master-the longer we stand here, the more likely we will bump into the Bishop." With that, Alucard slipped his arm through hers and the pair glided into the room.

There were so many different types of people here-it was like a regular United Nations with representatives from every corner of the world. A few countries she recognized from various costumes and traditional ways of dress; a Greek Orthodox priest dressed tip to toe in black, like a great crow , was helping himself to an ample serving of grapes and cheese from the buffet table, while a few Buddhist nuns clad in their traditional saffron and orange robes, heads freshly shorn, smiled gently at her.

"Those two have a very pure aura over there.," her companion whispered. He then added with a hint of a smirk." Their blood smells absolutely _heavenly._"

"Hush, behave yourself-must you always be so wicked?" Her servant kissed her gloved hand and smiled.

"I've been an angel all week."

"Yes, if you count Lucifer, or Asteroth ." she countered.

"I always preferred Belial myself. Would you like something to drink-punch, or some wine?" She nodded and continued to look around the room. While social functions were a part of a noble's life, Integra never did feel comfortable attending one. They seemed pretentious, over done events to either be used as a showcase for fancy dress, or as a 'meet market' to pair off the wealthy and socially mobile-neither facet appealed to her much. The last time she frequented a ball, some half-assed Earl had followed her around like a puppy, aggravating the tar out of her.At least she was with an escort this time- a rather intriguing one; she spied him being his oh-so-charming self whilst speaking to a rather pretty, little nun with light hair. For some odd reason , Integra felt a tiny spark of jealousy as the two conversed.

"_Stop being ridiculous," her inner-thoughts chided. "She's just a girl, and he's just being cordial...after all, she's a nun and you shouldn't be getting so undone. Lord, you know what he does with his fledgling and you don't bat an eye, so why go green now? ..." _ Alucard pecked the young woman's hand and she felt her stomach tighten. Seras was different-he had 'obligations' to his ward and whatever they did was their own personal business-also, they were considerate enough to keep it discrete, but here, her rouge of a vampire was openly flirting with a rather young thing right in public. As he returned with the sweet drink in hand, he was met with his master's sour gaze

"You should try the punch-its rather tasty." he said, attempting to gain her good graces.

"Perhaps you would rather try the nun-_she_ looks rather tasty." Alucard handed off the cup and shook his head.

"Not a chance in Hell- that poor, silly girl's Maxwell's current lover- I could smell him all over her." Integra passed the cup back.

"I have lost my appetite . Can we please go over to the veranda? Some fresh air would be most welcome." The vampire downed the claret liquid and placed the drained cup on a table before making their way over to the large, glass morning-windows that parted and led out into veranda. In spite of the cold, the air felt fresh, crisp on Integra's bare upper arms and face. The wind blew a few strands of hair over her eyes- she had left her glasses off in favour of contact lens this evening, and while her vampire missed them, their absence made his master look younger and softer than she did normally. The sounds of cheers and giggles projected upward. The pair looked down and saw a t least a dozen or so boys and girls playing and jumping, crushing the light snow under their feet. More surprising than the presence of children was who accompanied them as a chaperone; Father Anderson guided and joined them in their antics, his deep voice booming with laughter, instead of raining curses and segments of the Bible. Integra could not help but let a shadow of a smile slip over her lips.

"It's kind of nice to see him acting humane instead of a mad- man for a change." she said.

"Getting soft on the enemy?", Alucard questioned.

"No, it's just all of us have our facets- I guess this is one he can show in his civilian life. After all, I've seen you cuddle your fledgling and help Walter plant roses in the garden-even you, O Cheshire King, have your soft sides."

"True, very true-just don't let anyone else know about it-bad for the image." he countered. They both turned to each other and grinned. It was strange, this companionship, this warm friendship and everything _else_ that had developed as of late. Shyly, carefully, her hand slipped over to his arm and she pressed against his side.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Not any more."

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor-The Barracks

"You're home- Mon Cherie , home, home, home!" Each 'home' was accented with a tighter squeeze, as the Captain greeted his sweetheart, returned from her adventure abroad.

"So what did we learn overseas?" he asked rubbing his nose up to her own , little one.

"Hmm, 'things -I -learned -on -my -vacation', let's see: Italian food is good, opera is wonderful, and Catholic Bishops are very naughty." she joked.

"Hey, I'm Catholic." Pip stated with a pout. Seras gave him a quizzical look. "Okay-maybe a very lapsed one, but I'm sure there's some good priests out there- they just seem to clash with your line of work." He embraced her warmly and for a moment their banter ceased.

"I really did miss you, Vic. I thought about you every day."

"Me too. Bijou ?" she asked. A flash of delight lit up the man's face as he gave the little vampire exactly what she asked for in his native tongue-he pecked her lips with a small kiss.

"Pronounce it better next time and you get a bigger one." he teased.

"I've been practicing."

"Did you learn any of the good stuff? " He whispered a breathy phrase in her ear that sounded very, _interesting._ The poor girl looked a bit confused.

"Um, what does that mean?" He grinned broadly and winked his good eye at her.

"I'll explain it to you later- when we settle in for the night." He leaned in to kiss her again, when a familiar, annoying voice broke the love spell.

"Now, now-if you said that with her master around I'm sure he'd have a fit. Hallo, Miss. " Andrew proclaimed. Seras broke out of Pip's grasp and greeted the Hellsing heir with a salute first, then a patted hug.

"I was just heading upstairs to greet the family, Sir-and to see to your orders" she stated.

"Glad to have you back-mum's lonely without any other girls around to keep her company. "

"Where is Lady Meena?"

"At practice, practice, practice-another 48 hours of sheer work and then we'll all see her face again. By the way, I've asked the Captain here if you two would like to attend one of her holiday concerts-it's at night so that you can enjoy it safely."

"Yes, Sir-thank you!"

"Also Eddie's coming back from across the Pond and I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Seras smiled in delight, while the Frenchman rolled his eye-he was beginning to like the kid more, but he wanted to avoid having half-drunken, two -hour debates over painting with him again. This year, Noel was going to be mainly enjoyed by him and his mignonette.

"I'll leave you two to reacquaint yourselves with each other, but I wanted to ask you, Miss Victoria, are you still studying French with this fellow?" She nodded. Andrew grinned and a slightly sadistic look came into his eyes. "Well, I don't think that he's doing such a good job -after all, if he was _really _teaching you, you'd be boxing his ears right now with what he just asked you to do ..." Seras appeared curious, while Pip looked slightly horrified.

"_Oh merde, merde, merde..." He thought-so the limey bastard was sticking to his guns on this. "She's not even back ten minutes and this game of 'Torment the Captain' starts!"_

"Why don't you slide over here and let me tell you what he requested." The vampire came over and retrieved the whispered translation from Lord Andrew, blushed hotly, and then turned and glared at her Captain.

"I am going upstairs to see Lady Emma for a while." she flatly declared,"When you get your mind out of the gutter, I'll come back down."She turned on her heels and made her way up from the barracks. Pip shot a nasty glance at the young man, who was quite pleased with himself.

"Nice to know that the old, College-level french I took still comes in handy- by the way, Chappie, I would have phrased it ' Would you suck', rather than "Can you'- sounds so much more polite." Pip flipped him the two-fingered salute that his English comrades were so fond of, but Lord Hellsing merely grinned It was going to be a long, two weeks...

Later On, that Evening- The Dining Room

Walter had prepared a lovely supper of roast loin of pork done German style, with thick, savory apple- gravy and mashed potatoes.

"It was one of Lord Arthur's favourite dishes when he was younger -I made it for him from his mother's recipe." he proudly informed them. For Edward there was a vegetable casserole and for Miss Victoria, who was invited to dine with the whole family, there was a nice, big bowl of Black Pudding. Everyone was enjoying themselves, listening to Edward's experiences in New York, when an odd noise perked up Seras' ears.

"What's that-did you all hear something?" Andrew stopped chewing and pricked up his own ears , while his mother shook her head Edward halted his conversation and listened up as well. There was a low, moaning noise, like some kind of pained animal coming towards the room. The vampire and butler exchanged knowing glances-something was not right. At the doorway, Serviceman Williams lurched , his spine hunched forwards and his eyes appeared glazed over, as if drunk, or drugged. Walter approached him slowly, trying to sense what was the matter with the man.

"Sir, may I help you?' he inquired as he drew towards the figure. The man had a long line of spittle hanging from his mouth, and much to Walter's disgust he noticed it was mixed with a greenish material the constancy of puss. The eyes resembled frosted, glass marbles and his cheeks were sunken- however, it was what he held in his hands that shocked him - in his right , he had a vicious-looking pair of garden shears, the very ones that the butler used himself to trim the roses, and in the other a bloodied fragment of a human arm with the hand still attached.

Without hesitation, the 'man' lunged towards the table with a soul-less moan. He raised the pointed tool to strike down at the first person in his path-Lady Emma. The woman led out a scream, and her son, Andrew covered her body with his own, knocking her off the chair to the floor, just before the pair of sheers plunged into the solid wood of the dining table. Walter came up behind Williams and smashed the back of his head with a thick, metal tray, but it did little to deter him. He turned and grasped the butler by his tie, starting to strangle him, but then a firm hand yanked the fiend back

"Hands off, bugger." the vampire hissed Seras grabbed the zombie by the shoulders and forced him to the floor, her strong knees and legs pinning the filthy thing down. It's face contorted in pain and anger and its fingers attempted to claw her face- a few fingers scrapping the tender flesh of her left cheek, leaving harsh, bloodied welts. She slapped the man harshly, again and again across the mouth.

"Williams, John Williams, I order you to stop-wake up, it's us- your military!" The zombie only moaned and reached up his hands to grasp around her throat. Both Andrew and Edward attempted to get him off Seras, but his grasp only tightened. Walter brought Lady Emma to safety in the adjoining parlour. The struggled continued, and Seras felt herself go dizzy- this was not the rotting, weak ghoul that she was used to dealing with-this creature had all of its muscles intact and an iron determination to get the job done. She let out a sharp cry when she felt his nails dig under the skin, and with that she heard a loud crash, and then felt her attacker's hands go limp. Andrew was panting, fresh blood now splattering his pale shirt. A huge, heavy vase had been smashed to the temple, thick streams of foul-smelling blood rivered down and fragments of bone and tissue covered the floor. The zombie began to moan and some of its humanity filtered back in . His voice regained its tenor and Williams began to whimper-his eyes fluttered open, assimilating their humane brown colour. Andrew began to shake.

"Oh God, what have I done-Somebody call an ambulance!!" Walter resurfaced in the hallway.

"Call a coroner, too-we just found Smith's body on the stairs."

Elsewhere-

While the endless party dragged on downstairs, a quiet celebration was taking place up in the guest room. Bored with the champagne and the droning conversations, Sir Integra and her servant had escaped the festivities grabbing a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a box of chocolates, some dry toast and a jar of Nutella. Instead of dancing and dining, a heated game of Hearts was starting up accompanied by the treats and wine.

"I could get very used to this." the vampire stated, his mouth smeared with the sticky substance. " It's hazelnut and chocolate, right?"

"Yes- now do you have any cards?" she asked, guarding her own hand quite tightly. Card games were a pastime she never relinquished from childhood; her father had played endless rounds of War and Gin Rummy on the rainy days of her youth , while Walter had made her an expert poker shark by age sixteen. She had actually taken off her long gloves to snack and play- in this company, she was not ashamed to show her battle-worn wrists and forearms. After all, the years of constant feedings and required blood-lettings, had left their indelible marks up and down her skin.

"How funny that the human heart should be depicted on a playing card." Alucard stated. "In reality, it looks nothing like it-the simple, bowed shape and pointed tip, yet, everyone calls it a 'heart'"

"Perhaps its more of a symbol," Sir Hellsing began,"It looks like such a basic thing when you compare it against actual, but then you realize something."

"What's that?" She held up a card-the Ace of Hearts, and traced the figure with her fingertip.

"See-there's a piece missing right up top between the humps. In our hearts, we all have space that's empty, so we spend our entire lives filling up that void ."

"With what?"

"The foolish go for empty affection, the power-hungry obtain glory, and the lustful fill it up with flesh, but the fortunate, they occupy this place with love. Love of family, country, love of duty and their fellow man." The vampire eyed his master and spoke his next words carefully.

"Aren't there other types of love that spread over the space? Certainly, there must be more venues and aspects than only the few you described ?"

"There are-I'm not an expert on relationships- never have been. I know what I feel in my heart, what I hold dear to me, what I want to protect and call my own." Integra's words became quicker and more feeling poured out than what Alucard was used to dealing with verbally from her. Mentally, he could feel that her emotions were clashing with the noble and the carnal-she spoke of a chaste, devoted affection, but desire was trying to merge into her philosophy. " Alucard leaned in a bit closer, bridging the gap between them.

"You can have both- the physical and the familiar , the sensual and the sacred- it doesn't have to be just one or the other." She looked down at her hands.

"I know-I'm just trying to figure out how. Funny isn't it -ask me to make a decision involving hundreds of men's lives and I'm calm. Ask me how to deal with one, and I'm lost." He pressed his forehead to hers and cradled his hand to the back of her head.

"_You're finding your way._" Blue eyes met crimson and for a moment they connected in a way that defied duty, domestic ties or desire-it was if two souls had finally understood what the other was searching for. She kissed him lightly, her lips conveying everything in her heart. As her hands slipped over his, the contact's intimacy was interupeted by the blaring ring of the cell phone in her evening purse.

"_Dammit!" she thought-_she was going to have to take this-after all, she did not receive calls casually; if someone was contacting her, it was for a very important reason. Integra retrieved the phone from her bag and clicked it open .

"Hello?" The frantic message over the line made her face drop and she looked horrified. Alucard could make out the conversation on the other line- _Walter's voice upset- the family attacked- two men dead- black magik... Apparently the Bishop had not been bluffing after all. _

A short message was exchanged and Integra closed the phone with a snap. She took a composing breath and turned to her servant.

"Your orders?" he asked, her urgency clear.

"We leave for London -now."

Belial - One of the Demon Lords of Hell, mentioned in Dante's "Inferno"-sort of the patron saint of Lust and Carnal Sin. (Also _, _in the Gothic manga by Kaori Yuki, "Angel Sanctuary ", the demon/demoness The Mad Hatter, is Belial.)

Across the Pond- America-when we say it here, it means England.

Two Finger Salute- In Jolly old England, the way to say a rather naughty American gesture is with two fingers, the pointer and middle, not just the single, middle one.

Black Pudding- British dish of condensed beef-stock blood pudding- a perfect main course for a vampire at the supper table.

Nutella- A yummy Italian/French spread of chocolate, hazelnuts and creme. It's really good with a hot cup of café late.

Blood-letting- While Alucard and Integra share personal feedings, she does not let him bite down, but instead draws up the sustenance via razors, syringes and small cuts. A single bite, nor repeated feedings do not make you a vampire-there needs to be a draining and then an exchange of blood for that to happen in my mythos. However, Integra can't yet bring herself to allow him to feed off of her in such a manner. (She was attacked once by another vampire and the bite nearly caused her to end her own life- the idea is taken from the Carmilla episode in the first Anime series. ) It takes a lot of trust and intimacy for such a process to occur, and while they are heading down that path, not yet...


	17. Chapter 17

The End of the Century

12:30 A.M.- after a long and taxing day of greeting delegates, introducing programs and hosting a rather successful gala, Maxwell felt that her deserved a nice, rich Brandy Alexander and a few moments to himself. He loosened his collar, kicked up his feet on his polished mahogany desk, and peeled off his white gloves. The drink was rather warming- a rich blend of almond liquor and thick, whipped creme-his second of the night. For added comforted, he undid his tight ponytail, releasing his blond hair to the center of his back. For a moment, all was perfect. Suddenly, the door clicked open- at first, Enrico thought that it would be Mariana, eager to say a personal 'good-night' to him, but in her place was an even more welcome figure- Sir Hellsing. She stood, arm braced against the doorway, dressed hastily in a white, button-down shirt and grey pants- even with her more formal attire cast off, she still looked ravishing, aggravated, but ravishing.

"Maxwell..." she stated, her voice low and even.

"Ah, so good to see you." he stated, "I barely saw you at the party, my dear-you looked charming-gowns really do become you... " She crossed the space of the room in a few bounds and her eyes burned like embers. Before he could react, she was on top of him, hands grasping his shoulders, eye to eye, a slow rage boiling in her face.

"You bloody bastard- do you think that you can do this to me and not suffer the consequences?"The Bishop merely allowed a slow grin to spread and set down his drink. He was not riled by her violent outburst.

"Whatever are you talking about? " His calmness enraged Integra-her grip tightened and her voice went up an octave.

"I will take this to the council, to Parliament-to the damn Pope if I have to- how could you do this!!" His eyes met hers- they were mocking, sharp, and dug like pikes into her raw emotions.

"What are you getting riled up about- I told you what would happen, so why are you so shocked? Did you doubt my word?"

"You almost killed my aunt and butler" the Bishop removed the clenching hands around his form.

"No-your service man almost killed your family-this has nothing to do with me."

"Liar" she hissed. "You drugged him, poisoned him out of his mind and propelled him to do this act!"

"When they examine the corpse, there will not be even a trace of the substance in his blood or DNA- it oozes out of the pores and exits through the saliva-isn't that igneous ? That's from the more artificially based sample-I do believe that the natural derivative leaves heavy traces. It will look like he has gone mad, nothing more."

"I don't care-I'll find out how I can link this to you, and you _will_ be held responsible. I am leaving for London."

"No, no you're not." he replied. She started to exit, but Maxwell grabbed her by the arm and pulled her threateningly close.

"I'm afraid that you can't depart right now- you haven't even met my guests for the most part, and we need you to stay here and participate with your fellow conventionalist -if you remain calm, and be a good girl, nothing more will happen to your family-that I can guarantee. If you go off on your temper tantrum, who knows what could happened. I suggest staying collected, Sir Integra."

"Afraid I'll bring the house down on you?"

"Not at all- I just don't want anything_ else _to happen to your household- do you want me to poison your little vampire next? I'm sure she'd be a lot harder to stop than a mere solider, wouldn't she? I'm positive that we can come to a much more amiable pact, can't we?"Under her fierce emotions, Integra heard her servant interject mentally.

"_Steady yourself and play along-we can catch him easier with honey rather than bile, Master." he suggested._ Despite her instinctive anger she gritted her teeth and quelled her voice.

"Fine", she replied,"I will remain, but how can I trust that you won't attack again?" The man grinned in triumph.

"Join me at the morning services tomorrow and we will discuss what we both can do to rectify the situation. We have mass at the sanctuary at 8 A.M. sharp- I suggest 7:30 if you would like to have breakfast in my quarters."

"_I should poison your damn meal!" she thought. _She nodded in agreement. As she exited down the hall, she heard the Arch Bishop call after her.

"Oh, and be a lamb would you, and wear a dress tomorrow, after all, you do want to make a good impression on the company..." Like a rebellious teenager, she flipped her fingers up in a most disrespectful gesture and huffed away. Maxwell chucked and retrieved his thawing nightcap. This little game was getting more and more enjoyable with every round.

As she strode down the hall, Sir Hellsing felt the shadow of her servant cling and swirl against the wall, following her back to her bedroom.

"Why didn't you let me ring the piss out of that swine?" she demanded in a harsh whisper.

"_Because, when you see what is lurking in this very house, you will know just how personal his vendetta is against you, master. Follow me." _The web of mist swirled and led her down another hallway; the woman followed, clinging to the walls as the path grew darker and darker.

"_Here-over here on the right._" Alucard instructed. Integra opened the door and stepped inside- the bedroom appeared normal enough, just another empty guest room like the other dozen or so in the house. The vampire urged her over to the far corner of the room, next to a small dresser

"_Push it aside and there will be a small door behind it- you can crawl inside." _She did as she was suggested and a small door, like the type used for an attic passageway was present. Integra passed through and came into another smaller space, like one that would be used for a child's play room, or hiding spot It was dully lit by the glow of a few smoldering candles-her eyes had to adjust to the dimness. An elaborate alter was arranged in the corner, occupying most of the space. The setting was adorned with a bowl of oranges and covered in burned down candles- melted to the base, their fragrant wax staining the white cloth underneath. The heavy scent of sweet wine, blood, cinnamon and wax overwhelmed her, making her head feel light-another smell of something that reminded her of limes and mint wafted up.

"_Be careful-there's belladonna in there as well-it can make you very ill, so don't let the fresh scent fool you-it's deadly. _Sir Hellsing drew closer to make out some of the framed photographs on the table - they were pictures of her family ranging from her mother and father, to relatives, soldiers, and even a blurred image of what she assumed to be Seras and Alucard. A photograph of her taken when she was sixteen and at a debutante ball, was highlighted in a gilded, ornate frame surrounded by red ribbon and stuck with dozens of small pins.

"What the bloody Hell goes on here?" she breathed.

"_There's a curse on your family here- you as well. All of you are marked by the powers in control and there are additional images of your distant relatives and ancestors underneath. It's not just a plague on the current household, but of the entire family of the Van Hellsings." Integra rolled her eyes._

"I am getting pretty fed-up with curses-can't anyone come up with anything else..." The vampire laughed.

"_On the far end of the Villa, there is a small laboratory that contains several gallons of the toxin used to turn Williams- it's enough to poison the entire estate and all of its guests- it's a curse with a modern twist-chemical weaponry, master. If Maxwell feels threatened, who knows what he will do? While I don't believe he can zombify any more of our family, he can destroy all of the patrons here-I sense his sanity may not be a stable as we all think." _

"Coming from you, that is pretty disturbing. All things aside, what is the best course of action?"

"_Patronize him for now, then expose him to his peers once the chemicals are destroyed and the alters are destroyed."_

"Alters-THERE'S MORE?"

"_Yes."_

"What about the other factories in Haiti and France that are linked to this production?"

"_Let's take care of Italy first- I think it would be wise to leave now-I don't like the feel of this place."_

Elsewhere-The Captain's Quarters

While the vampire's day was just beginning, Captain Bernadette was starting to nod off on his couch, his head pillowing against Seras' lap. Absently, she toyed with his long braid, tickling his nose with the loose end of it, irritating him to a drowsy fuss.

"I thought you wanted to see the end of it.", she said, indicating the film that was still playing on the television. It was an older, American movie about a private detective that gets caught up in a supernatural crime in the Deep South. Pip said he hadn't seen it in a while, so she popped it in for them to view before bed. With some of its gory scenes and shocking twists, the girl was re-thinking that it perhaps wasn't the best choice of subject matter to unwind to. (The pair saw plenty of strange and disturbing events in their line of work, so horror flicks were not exactly favoured, though this one's solid plot and good acting put it a cut above the rest.) He lazily shooed her teasing hands away and snuggled closer. The image of a Voodoo celebration and offering flickered up on the flat screen.

"Honey, are the people in the movie speaking French?" she asked.

"Yeah, a form of it. Haiti was a French colony for many years, sort of a plantation state."

"What did it grow?"

"Sugar, amongst other things, but that's the main crop-the one that caused all the trouble." Gently, she started to massage her boyfriend's temples. He released a pleased sigh and continued.

"I'll try and remember that the next time I want another spoonful in my tea."

" Ha!'A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down'- all it did on the island was make the slave market bigger. The huge plantations required slaves, there was lots of corruption and the entire world wanted sugar-the more they wanted, the more they produced, and the crueler the demands became- Haiti had its first revolution right around the same time France had its own. Since then, they've always had problems-lots of problems."

"Did voodoo always exist there?"

"I'm sure- they just probably called it something else before the Catholics called it 'voodoo'. From what I hear, it's not just curses and all the stuff you see in movies, but a real religion."

"Would you want to attend that?" Seras indicated the wild dancing and trances that the actors were portraying.

"Vic, I'm wise enough to stay the hell away from things I don't understand." She tapped in nose lightly.

"You work with things you don't understand, everyday."

"True, true, but let's just say I've grown accustomed to the supernatural being quite natural- not mention pretty." He stroked her under the chin and the vampire smiled. Pip squinted for a moment and eyed her neck-the pin-pricks that marked her on the side were a raised and red. Usually they were almost un-noticeable , but tonight they appeared raw. He carefully reached a finger up to push away a chunk or her hair that had brushed over it.

"Honey, what happened here-you look like somebody's been teething on you." The girl touched her wounds and blushed

"Um, well, we ended up feeding a little extra this week." He gave her a concerned looked.

"Sweetie pie, honey lamb..." he began. Whenever he began using pet names, Seras knew that he was very, very nervous. "I know that you two have to feed and do your 'special' bonding thing, but how many times are you up to now?"

"Usually it's once to twice a week, but I guess he was irritated or just hungry this time around -it was five times or so." His eye went wide. "He was a little more aggressive than normal, really nice and forceful the final night we were there. I mean, on Tuesday it was twice in one day- he drove into me until I was sore and just didn't seemed to be satisfied until I got on top." Pip let out a little squeak.

"Do you enjoy it? Is it really pleasurable?" he asked.

"_Oh bollocks-how the hell do I answer this one?" she thought..._Answer truthfully, traumatize Captain, lie and he'll still have a thousand doubts. After all, there was no easy way to convey the actual fact- it was immensely, fantastically, orgasmically pleasurable, but completely necessary for her emotional and physical well-being. A man's ego was a very fragile thing, sort of like a spider web- steel strong, but easily damaged. Actions would be a better display of emotions She leaned down and kissed him, patting his cheek. The worried look did not dissipate. Seras repeated the gesture with more gusto and he responded in kind. She pressed her forehead to his and mentally spoke to him.

"_Love you."_

"_I know- I just can't help it if I'm not his Highness." _

"_I love you just the way you are." _He pecked her again.

"_Me too." _ An exaggerated shriek came off the television as the lead character made his shocking discovery at the conclusion of the story. The pair turned from each other to witness the final scene.

" Ugh-this ending's the un-cut version-way too much blood." she commented. "It's not even the right colour, either."

"Want to watch 'Mary Poppins' instead?"

"Oui, mon ami."

Elsewhere- The Guest Rooms, Maximilian Villa

The tick of the clock reminded her that she was still awake- 1:45 A.M., 2:15, 2:30- every fifteen minutes Integra woke; she tossed and turned, flipping from side to side, attempting to claim some sort of comfort for herself under the covers. Everything seemed so unreal. Her family had already been through so much- enemies, misfortunes and personal tragedies- why did this over-sexed, over-powered over-bearing ass have to be in her life.

"_Am I never to have a moment's peace?" she thought _What exactly did this man wish to accomplish with his obscene actions? Why her-of all the women in his world, why did she fascinate him so much?

"_You can't blame him-you are a remarkable woman." a smooth voice answered. _A shadow shifted slightly, resembling a human figure over her bed. A light touch caressed the woman's forehead, and a wave of drowsiness fell over Integra with all the warmth of a blanket. Her eyes closed peacefully. The vampire formed fully and crouched over his master, pecking her lips.

"_Sweet dreams in your head, and a pistol under your pillow- good combination, master-sleep well." _

"Where are you off to?" she mumbled, half drifting off.

"_Hunting. There are papillons flitting about and I must crush their wings. " _With a soft scurrying of legs, the figure disappeared as a swarm of black spiders, creeping under the cracks in the doors and the wall, the urge of the hunt pulsing through their collective hearts. Butterflies with filthy wings were flying about, and they were about to be snared in a very nasty web...

Movie-"Angel Heart"-really good supernatural thriller about voodoo, a mystery, and a surprise ending starring Mickey Rourke and Lisa Bonnet

Revolution- France's was in 1776, while Haiti's started in the early 1800's- the first of many.

Papillons- French for Butterflies.


	18. Chapter 18

Dancing Through Sunday

The vibration of negative energy was throbbing, violent , and easily detectible on the opposite side of the villa. It radiated from an old garden shed in the heart of the frozen landscape-the proverbial canker in the rose. The tiny army of creeping doom covered ice and snow in tiny bounds, relentlessly growing closer. A few meters away from the den, they twisted and writhed upwards assembling into the figure of a fellow in scarlet and ink. A strong barrier was engulfing the place like a shroud. Alucard raised his hand in elaborate patterns of twists and turns- a counter attack to the mystic seal. As its support weakened, the creature bounded through, being halted by a sharp thunk to the back of his shoulder. A large, smoldering silver blade sank into the fabric of his coat and the flesh of the right shoulder. While it pained him only a little, it aggravated the vampire to no end- he did not need added company this evening.

"I suggest ya head back ta the tombs where ya belong, dog." a thick accented voice boomed. With a smirk, the Cheshire King turned to face the right-hand man of the Iscariot Organization- Father Alexander Anderson. Alucard plucked the thick blade out of his body, as a child would pull a splinter from its knee.

"Good evening to you, Sir, and to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this night?" His syrupy sarcasm made the priest scowl.

"I've tolerated you and yer filth long enough- ya not ta be out here beyond the catacombs or from yer master's hand."

"I have business that does not concern you- I gave my Master my word that I would not cause any trouble-but what she doesn't know, won't hurt her..." and with that, he lunged at the man, who produced more blessed weapons and the two proceeded to tear each other to ribbons- bright and black blood alike staining the fresh snow in gory petals.

The fighting continued for a while, each almost relishing the exercise and release that conflict offered. The priest flung his bayonets with expert precision, skewering his foe in the chest and throat The vampire merely grinned like a fiend, removed the metal and persisted in his assault.

An elongated hand with razor-sharp claws peeled away fabric and flesh like tissue paper from the man. For the exception of the night at the opera, the vampire had little interaction between predator and prey-this was a fun, little exercise indeed, but it was wasting his time. He did not want the priest dead, but out of his hair. Alucard tore off the left leg below the knee from his opponent , and the paladin fell to the ground with a curse in Gaelic and a heavy pool of blood forming around his figure. For good measure, the creature quickly impaled his good leg and hands to the earth with his own bayonets.

"Dammit-that smarts! " He roared and began to tug at the handle- the weapon was buried to the hilt. He turned his face up and growled. Alucard began to move towards his destination.

"Come back here and fight!" Anderson yelled. The vampire smirked.

"What are you going to do-bleed on me?" He continued and left the fallen man to rant into the ice and snow.

The shed to the human eye seemed an ordinary, unremarkable thing, but to the supernatural being, it was a place of borders- one world harbouring the next, a cross-roads of the spiritual realm. Alucard could still feel the current churning inside the room from the outside door-its electrical spark heavy with powerful magik. He phased through the thick door and beheld another alter adorned with marigolds, fresh fruit and the sickly-sweet essence of rum and white wine. Surrounded by candles, some still flickering , others drowning in their own melting wax, a man sat, clothed in black, cross-legged on the floor, a pattern of sea shells circling him. His face was painted with black and white grease-paint, resembling a skull and a faded top hat perched on his head. Mentally, alucard spoke out to him.

"_What are you doing here? Why are you set on destroying my master's family?" A rumbling stirred up deep within his head and heart. _

"_Why are you here disrupting the Barron?" A deep voice inquired, echoing inside his brain like a bell. _

"_I have come to find out why you are besetting my master and why would you serve a fool like Maxwell- a being of your power should know better than to bow to a simpering human."_

"_Don't you bow to a woman yourself, Count? Maybe if you kneeled instead, she's be warmer to you." _

"_A bawdy sense of humour indeed, Barron, but refrain from bringing her into this. Why are you here- are you bound to this place? " _

"_Vatican gold is as good as any- besides, this Bishop has promised souls, many bon angles ripe for the picking, and Jack the Cat has access to plenty of them." _

" _Stop this foolishness now, and I will not have to destroy you." A great, booming laughter filled the room, causing the host's body to shake violently. _

"_HA HA HA HA! YOU threaten ME- you have the heart of lion, but little corpse, you are nothing but dust to me- I'll send you back to the grave where you belong!" _

"_I never make empty boasts." _With that comment, Alucard approached the figure who began to glow with an other -worldly light. His eyes opened- the whites exposed and illuminating an eerie blue, while his grin split across his face like a canyon of gold and jagged teeth.

"You fight the Barron, you go against all the forces of Heaven and Hell_." _he growled_. _With a flick of his finger, a wave of blue light, slithered across the floor, twisting and turning into, great thick snakes. They came on like lightning, jaws snapping and eyes flashing wrath. With a splash of a few drops of blood, the vampire replied in kind; a wriggling mass of huge, black centipedes charged forwards, biting and tearing the serpents to pieces. As the unholy beasts fought, the men lunged towards each other, the vampire well aware that the supernatural being, had quite a mortal shell- the spirit was currently abiding in a very human home and left him with a predicament; how was he to dislodge the loa without destroying the host? Alucard let the Barron come close enough to place hands about his neck as if to strangle him. He then grasped the hands of the man, and peered into the blank eyes, prying for any sense of humanity present. He found what he was looking for- a glimmer of emotion, human emotion that reflected his life: the laughter of children, the taste of white wine and the face of his spouse were strong elements to draw the man back to consciousness. Alucard spoke the name of his wife, the very witch he had met in the church the other day.

"Angelique." he murmured, He repeated it over and over as if casting a spell, and the fierce power began to drift away, vanishing like fog. The hands eased off from around his throat, and the body went limp. The man coughed and spat up a foul mixture of rum, potent herbs, and bile. The creature lowered the man to the floor, and allowed him to wretch properly. The monestrous insects surrounded him, closing in for the kill, but with a swish of his hand, they merged back into the shadow of his body and coat, disappearing. The recovering man shuddered and collapsed. Alucard sighed and picked up the man, dripping with his own mess and wrinkled his nose- the stench was foul to the mortal nose and even more rancid to his own.

"Why, why must I try to be noble and keep my word to her..." he grumbled to himself as he slung the body over his shoulder like a sack of cats. "Right, because you love her." He started for the door when it flung open dramatically, revealing an rather angry Anderson, blades brandished and religious rant beginning.

"And woe unto you who do not fear the Power and the Glory of the -what the Hell??" he questioned as he spied the ruined alter and the unconscious body over Alucard's shoulder."What kind of devilry is this?" The vampire came to him in a few bounds and placed the man in his capable arms.

"Here you are- make yourself useful and bring this man inside. " The priest made a disgusted face when he smelt the vomit.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph-he smells worse than a Cork County Drunk! "

"I suggest a bath, warm blankets and sleep-hand him over to his wife, I'm sure she's dealt with this before." With that, he waltzed passed the overwhelmed man, and melted into the night's shadows. Anderson was left wondering just how did all of these patient women deal with drunkard husbands... he huffed and resolved to destroy the pagan alter when it was daylight. Right now, he just wanted to get the stinking man home.

Morning- The Master Bedroom

The coffee was heavenly- a rich, robust blend of Arabica beans and a hint of vanilla. Maxwell sipped it slowly, savouring the creamy flavour that accompanied his croissant perfectly. To Italians, breakfast was usually a light meal, usually consisting of a bit of café, fruit, and some pastries. During his travels, he had experienced the more hearty fare of Holland, Ireland, and adored the heavy waffles of Belgium, but his stomach was a bit nervous this morning, so the more traditional plate fared better. He glanced up at the clock- 7:28- she would be here any moment, and the Bishop felt like a school-boy waiting for his playground crush to arrive. She had been so passionate the other night. When riled up, she was very pretty, a flush of emotion coloured her face most becomingly. Perhaps more sensual feelings would do the same- he certainly hoped so. The door creaked open and Sister Yumiko peeked her little head in.

"Bishop, you have company." she announced, and with that, a rather stiff-looking Integra entered. She wore a sharp, white dress shirt accented by a button-down charcoal vest, blood-red tie, and a stern expression. To Maxwell's delight, she did indeed wear a skirt-a rather nice, tight pencil skirt that hit just below the knee, but had a slit up the side-it show-cased her long legs quite nicely.

"Good morning, Sir Hellsing- such a pleasure to have you join me for breakfast." he stated."Oh Sister, would you be a dear and fetch a pot of Earl Grey from the kitchen- I don not believe that the lady is fond of coffee." The nun dashed off to bring the tea. "Please, won't you sit down?" He gestured to the empty chair next to him. Integra took the seat, but moved it across from the man. She eyed him with all the trust of a canary staring down a tiger-cat.

"I hope you were able to have a good sleep last night."

"Oh, it was quite restful-after all, nothing like attempted murder and blackmail for pleasant dreams...," she replied sarcastically. The Arch Bishop took a gulp of coffee, set it down and shook his head.

"If you were not being so difficult, we would not have to resort to such tactics. I have been a perfect, hospitable gentleman the whole time you and your organization have been here- I would like to make my proposal sincere, but it seems no matter what I say, you don't listen."

"It's difficult to listen when all I hear is bullsh-"

"Language, language, my dear. Remember, you are a proper, Englishnoble woman- and in the future I certainly would not want our children to hear such words." Sir Hellsing felt a mixture of nausea and a stifling laugh rising up in her throat.

"Children? You're getting ahead of yourself aren't you?"

"Why is that, _cara mia_?"

"Because I'd rather dig out my own ovaries with a dull spoon than let you place a single hand on me in that fashion." Maxwell laughed-she was such a little spitfire!

"Instead of being ridiculous, let's lay out the ground plans for our little merger here. After a nice , private ceremony, the paperwork and all the legal aspects will be signed, sealed and delivered, entitling you to additional funding from His Holiness, the Pope, as well as our undivided spiritual protection and guidance. You may choose to divide your time from working at your organization in England, and tele - commuting and conferences from my estate in either France or Spain."

"Oh, you'd let me keep working- how generous of you."

"Part-time, of course, the children will a hand-full, I'm sure. They need their mother's guidance and love. "

"If you crave a family so badly, why don't you adopt some of those poor orphans instead of using them?" Anger rose in her voice.

"That may be a lovely idea after a few of our own are born- after all, don't you want to continue your bloodline?"

"Not really..." she hissed "_And never with you, bastard.." she continued in her thoughts. _Sister Yumiko brought in a tea tray piled with cups and saucers, and set the pot in front of Integra. She thanked her and began to pour a steaming cup for herself. Enrico clucked his tongue.

"You see, that is the problem with the modern woman-too selfish-only thinking of her own wants and needs, completely disregarding the people around her. Certainly, you remember the love and care your own mother gave to you? Why would you want to deny a child, and spouse, that love? I'm sure even under your iron exterior lies a warm heart."

"My heart is quite fine, Bishop, and I would care if you left my mother out of your conversations. I have no husband because I do not desire one. I have no children because at this stage of my life I am lucky to wake up alive and not eaten, shot, drained nor attacked by raving zombies in the course of the night. I hardly believe that my current situation is the proper one to raise a family in."

"But I could change all that- just say the word, and I could be such an ally to you and your family-life could be very sweet, very full instead of you being alone in your struggles." She sipped her tea and cleared her throat.

"I am not alone-I have a fine army, loving family, devoted servants and brave attendants."

"Soldiers that resent you, an old butler, a handful of surviving relatives , and your vampire pets-please, you need my help more than you may realize. Those monsters deserve to be six feet under." He produced a sly grin. "Unless, of course, you keep them for_ other_ purposes..." Integra arched her brow, a cautionary look present her eyes.

"I would watch your accusations, sir." she said, calmly sipping her Earl Grey-another brash comment like that and she would stab him with the butter knife on his plate.

"You claim to be the Iron Maiden, but I have my doubts about that...a young, attractive woman left alone for far too long- you must have your needs met one way or another. After all, your Queen Elizabeth claimed to be a virgin her whole rein, but had many, many lovers." Integra laughed.

"Afraid I'm shagging my butler? Really Maxwell- you are as obscene as you are foolish." He frowned and placed his cup down harshly, causing the table to tremble .

"Why don't you tell me which one you prefer- the Demon King or his little Corpse Bride?" he asked.

"Hoping I'll say that latter so you can be in the middle?" Touche-the comment stung. Maxwell leaned in and peered into her eyes, cold and blue as slate.

"You know, Sir Integra, consorting with devils is a serious sin- women were tortured and put to death for such lascivious acts..."Her glare met his, unafraid, unfaltering. She drew in close, her face mere inches from his.

"I will repeat this only once because you're so thick- I have no lover, nor have ever. I have not the time, energy, nor inclination for one in the past, or present. There has not been a body-warm or cold - to pressed to mine in that fashion. If this is an attempt to guilt or frighten me into your bed-it's...not... working." The last phrase was breathed softly, each word sharp, issuing a warning. He paused, not exactly sure of what to say next, but was sure if he leaned in and pecked her, there'd be Hell to pay.

"I don't know whether to kiss or kill you.," he whispered.

"I suggest neither, now are we attending Mass, or not?"

The Bishop sighed, and finished his drink. Integra did the same. As she began to rise, he gained her attention.

"While you may put on a brave face and all the airs you want, I know what you really are, Integra."

"And what is that?"

"Under it all, you're still a woman, a scared, lonely woman. You may play the part of a male heir all you desire with your guns and suits, cigars and sword, but you have the heart of a woman under all of your armor." He stood up and was next to her , eager breath on her ear." One day, you'll feel all the loneliness you've built up come crashing down like the Tower of Babble. You'll be alone in the middle of the night, wanting and wondering where all the years went. That's when you'll find yourself under a man, begging, pleading, growing warm and wet and willing...You'll cry out and take him just like any common whore. You see, you're no different than any other woman- you just don't know it yet."With the final words, his hands caressed her shoulder. She jerked away and shot him a murderous look.

"Don't touch me! Keep your sick concepts to yourself, _Father_ Maxwell..." He smiled and bowed a little.

"As you wish, _Sir_ Integra..." The two walked down the hall in an angry silence, the tension thick and cloying. She kept her word and attended the mass, the sermons drifting in and out of her ears meaninglessly-the thoughts of castration were a bit too powerful to pacify with psalms, pax and pane She did not attend Communion, but watched with a bit of an ache in her heart. Why was it that some of the most horrible men in history hid behind the humility of the Cross? Why did they think that a collar absolved them of all their sinfulness? If and when Christ made His return, he was going to be very upset... As the mass ended, Integra's spirit remained heavy.

"Sir Hellsing, you did not receive Communion- do the Protestants not partake? It's the same act no matter who performs it, so perhaps you might feel more comfortable if you had it " Sister Yumiko stated with a smile-the nun was not trying to be reprimanding, but was offering the sacrament as sort of a peaceful act.

"You are absolutely right, Sister-let us extend our hearts to our Protestant family by offering the host and wine..." Maxwell replied. He retrieved a plate of Holy Wafers and a chalice filled with Blessed Wine. Integra felt trapped- there was no graceful way to back out of this and the Arch Bishop had her cornered.

"My dear child, when one makes an offer of peace, one should partake of it- after all, we all want to grow to love each other and build our families, don't we?" She could sense the double meaning dripping off each word.

"Of course.," she replied. "_You, bloody, advantageous , bastard." _He raised the host to her lips.

"Body of Christ." he whispered

"Amen." She replied. He placed the wafer on her tongue and his fingertip lingered a bit too long , relishing the warmth of her mouth. Slowly, he pulled away and presented the cup.

"Blood of Christ."

"Amen." Sir Hellsing took a sip of the cup, but it tasted so bitter on her pallette . The Bishop wiped a drop of the ruby liquid from her mouth and displayed a knowing grin.

"_I win." he breathed, so slight, his lips barely parted. _

"_For now." she countered. _

"Bleed on Me??"- Wink, wink, nudge, nudge-say no more! If it has to do with England, there will be some Monty Python references...

Bon Angeles- Good Souls, or the conscience. According to Voodoo, a person houses two souls-the "Grande" or Big Angel-the person's essence, and "Petite" or Little Angel, or person's personality.

Queen Elizabeth I- Known as the 'Virgin Queen", never did marry, but her actual chastity is, er, a bit questionable. Marriage would have diluted her absolute power.

Pax and Pane- Bread and Peace in Latin-a term for Catholic Communion.


	19. Chapter 19

Blackout

_A few non-Hellsing characters now make a cameo appearance- I feel that they would be very fitting at this type of shin-dig, so here they are... another unlikely, supernatural hero in red with a human sweetheart. Have fun!_

Morning light made the entire meeting hall cheery. A light, continental breakfast had been placed out to make the guests feel at home, and the scent of steaming coffee filled the place, while platters of plump bagels and bowls of fruit adorned tables. Conversation could be picked up in snippets-

"This year vas a prime season for verewolves-"

"After they had cleaned up the bombings in Gaza, they were able to recover the scriptures, untouched-"

"We had over thirteen exorcisms this month alone- I swear, it's the atmosphere around Provence..."

Not the average niceties exchanged during conventions, but then again, this was not your ordinary convention. Everyone who fought the forces of the supernatural, anyone who combated the armies of evil, and shed light on the shadowy side of the world was in attendance from Europe, Asia, and America. In spite of her dark mood, Sir Integra was organized and well-prepared to give a few statements on the un-dead and possessed a detailed list of all of the weapons used on the battlefield. Her vampire guardian was currently resting- he had been out 'hunting' all evening and while he had contacted her at about six in the morning, and his statement was brief- _mission successful, I need rest. _The woman took a deep breath and settled herself down near the American section . An organization, calling itself the Bureau for Paranormal Research had a few members present, including a rather striking brunette woman of about twenty-five or so, with choppy hair and a large cross around her neck. She cast a smile towards Sir Hellsing, and she returned the cordial gesture with a friendly nod.

The crowd grew hushed as The Arch Bishop took the podium on the stage and began his welcoming speech about how all were coming together to do God's work and that through support and dedication, they all could benefit the world and each other. The audience applauded his kind, powerful statements and Integra just felt her stomach fold in on itself. Right now, she could really go for a cigar...

Elsewhere- The Courtyard, Hellsing Manor-

Since the attack on the house a few days ago, the whole family had been on edge. Lady Emma had woken up to nightmares, and Edward seemed even quieter and more reserved than usual. Seras Victoria had been personally screening every enrolled man in the unit for any signs of supernatural activity. Instead of searching for the enemy , it was now being sought out under their very noses. Bundling up in a heavy wool coat, Lord Andrew took a half a pack of cigarettes, a thick muffler and proceeded to go off to the gardens to take a walk about and clear his head. The crisp air filled his lungs and he felt sharper than he had in the lazy heat of his dining room. He lit up a quick cigarette and sucked in the smoke, pushing it out with a whistle.

"_Thank God Meena wasn't here, thank God, thank God." was all he could think to himself. _That 'thing' could have chopped his mum's head clean off, or impaled his brother- he came damn near to crushing Walter's windpipe-the old man still had some bruises on his neck peeking out through his ascot. What the Hell was going on? Also, Integra had stated that she was going to come home to assess the situation, and then she had countered by saying that for the sake of the family she had to stay put in Italy.

"_Maybe, Italy's pulling the strings here- the Vatican's got to have something to do with it." _Andrew was well aware how powerful Section XIII could be when threatened , and was secretly worried that perhaps this was something his cousin could not get out of as easily as first thought.

"Don't worry, Sir, she's with master and can handle herself quite well." a voice responded. Lord Hellsing turned his head and the little vampire was trailing behind him, clad in her military uniform with a knitted cap in her hands.

"How'd you get here so quick?," he asked "Have you got wings now?" She smiled and pressed the tan-coloured cap into his hands.

" Yes, actually-here, I thought you may be cold, Sir."

"Thank you."

"For your report, Lord Hellsing, I have personally screened eighty-nine of our one hundred and seventeen enlisted service men. Walter is currently aiding me with the rest. The infantry men will also be assessed. None appear to be hindered with any sort of infection- supernatural or other wise."

"Was the blood of Serviceman Williams analyzed, yet?"

"It was- there were no traces of anything other than salmonella poisoning from several days prior to the attacks- that's what the lab says..." Andrew gave her a knowing look.

"And what do you say, Seras?"

"I smelled something a little stronger and stranger than that- Belladonna. Walter and I did research-it's a lethal plant that's used in alchemy and in Voodoo ceremonies. The drug is a combination of a synthetic reproduction of the Belladonna-almost six hundred times the natural potency and other deadly herbs of a Carribean origin. It's then blended with amino acids to adhere to the body's proteins."

"Well-done, good job!"

"And to think, I never did very well in chemistry at school." she commented.

"What do you think the next step of action should be." he asked through a veil of smoke.

"Continue screening, attempt to develop an antidote, and quite puffing on those things-they'll kill you , Sir." Andrew laughed lightly and crushed the butt out under his shoe.

Elsewhere-

The Guest Rooms, Maximilian Villa-

Angelique Le Chat stroked the face of her sleeping husband. It had been quite a shock to see him in such a sorry state this morning when the Irish priest had dragged him in. He looked pale as a ghost and smelled like death warmed over. The aura of the vampire she had encountered the other day clung to him, and she had more than an inkling that he had interrupted her mate during the seance , angering the Baron greatly. After all, when the Baron was appeased, they were all happy, but the loa was fickle- any disturbance and he could go on a rampage. Unfortunately, spirits were like spoiled children; when they got there way, the world was a wonderful place, however to tease or torment them even slightly, could destroy the human host. Jacques stirred a bit in his slumber-he released a pained sigh.

"Shhh, mon ami, I'm here, I'm here." she whispered and dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth. His fussing ceased and his body eased back into rest. While she attempted to stay calm for her mate's comfort, her temper flared up inside.

"_Miserable blood-sucker, ruining everything_..." she hissed under her breath. This creature thought he was so smart, so powerful, he had no idea whom he was dealing with - the Barron was a mighty , ancient entity that was not to be taken lightly- nor was his priestess. She would make this one suffer just as she had done to countless night creatures prior. She had done her fair share of work for the Bishop-the Rosary, collecting the pictures and bits and pieces for the alters, not to mention harvesting the Belladonna. As far as she was concerned, the work for Maxwell was no longer a priority- protecting her family was. He would have to claim the pretty, British woman on his own terms.

"Don't worry Jacques," she cooed, pecking his cheek, "That bastard forgets that this angel wields a flaming sword..."

The Convention Hall

The first half of the morning broke after several long speeches conducted by his 'holiness', a progress report on how the Middle East was fairing due to the current war continuing onwards, as well a lighter panel on guardian spirits and how to control them. A short break was proposed for lunch, and Integra could not wait to go outside and get some fresh air. As she made her way out into the courtyard, she nearly collided into Father Anderson who was bringing a crying child inside. The little girl had stream of blood running down her lip and pursed her small face into a scrunched grimace.

"That's why ya have ta be careful on the steps, Maggie- ya can't go round jumping like a wee money all the time." he chided. The words were reprimanding, but not cruel. The child accidentally bumped into Sir Hellsing, and looked up.

"S-s-sorry!,"she said, voice quivering.

"Maggie, be careful." Anderson said. She began to cry again . Slowly, Integra knelt, getting down to the child's level. While she did not normally have much interaction with children, especially one this young, she poised herself and made her voice calm and low.

"I see that you fell-where does it hurt?" Maggie pointed to her lip- there was a small gash, nothing that would be serious, but messy and painful. The woman pulled a wad of tissue from her vest pocket and presented it to the girl. She looked up at the priest who eyed her cautiously.

"May I?" she was asking both of them, but seemed to be asking permission from Anderson. He nodded, and Integra began to dab the wound gently.

"Now, we have to clean the blood off to see if you hurt your lip any worse than what it looks like." the girl whimpered."I know it hurts, but you have to be brave-crying won't make it better, understand? Now, I need you to open your mouth to see if you cracked your teeth." Obediently, her mouth formed into a wide 'O' and everything appeared fine-a bit bloodied, but intact. "Good girl- everything's in there. Go inside and wash out your mouth- and no more jumping, right??" The girl nodded and Anderson had a small grin on his face.

"And where ya learn to do doctoring?" he asked She rose and wrapped the bloodied tissued in clean ones, preventing her hands from becoming a complete mess.

" I've seen plenty of civilians and soldiers in battle, more than I care to admit. Do you want me to take her to the washroom? I have to clean up myself now anyway."

The priest seemed surprised. "Don't worry, she won't be a vampire snack." He nodded and the pair returned into the warm confines of the house.

"What are you doing here-you look a little young to be at a place like this?" Integra asked the girl as they entered the washroom.

"We're gonna sing with the choir for Christmas.," she replied "Sister Mary-Anna helps us." Marguerite was still as the nice lady with the glasses wiped her mouth with warm water-it stung at first, but then felt good. The lady was being very sweet to her and her round, shiny glasses reminded her of Sister Yummie. Integra was a bit surprised when the little girl touched her spectacles, making her lean back a bit.

"Sister Yummie has glasses like yours-she's nice, too."

"_When she's not a raging berserker, she's a lamb." Sir Hellsing thought. However, it was best to keep some things to one's self...especially in the present company, _

"Where are you from, Maggie?"

"I came from St. Augustine's School in Haiti- it's not winter there." she stated. Haiti. So, this was one of the little souls Maxwell would gladly sacrifice for a roll in bed with her. She looked into the child's wide, unassuming eyes-they were a deep bronze and she had skin the colour of toffee with cream. She couldn't be more than six and already she had been orphaned, left alone in this world. A deep wave of sadness engulfed her heart.

"See your lip's-better already." she lifted the girl up a bit so that she could see her reflection in the mirror. No more blood! She smiled and clumsily hugged her helper. Integra flustered a bit, but accepted the display affection with a small grin of her own.

"Now, off you go, but listen to your teachers-they want what's best for you." Maggie nodded and went back to the hand of Father Anderson who was waiting for her outside the door. He nodded in thanks to her and proceeded onwards with the child in tow. Being helpful was wonderful-she deserved a reward. Integra made her way a second time out to the courtyard and dug into her pocket for a cigar. She turned the corner for a quiet place to smoke in peace and settled on a stone bench near the side of the main house. She attempted to fire up when her lighter sparked than died out.

"Bloody Hell." she cursed between clenched teeth. A thin shadow fell over her- it was the woman with the cross from inside. She was a fellow tobacco lover, with a thin cigarette in her gloved hand.

"Hey, need some help?" she asked. Integra nodded and rose, not expecting her fare to be lit in the manner it was; instead of a match or lighter, the girl removed her gloves and snapped her finger producing a thick, blue flame from her pointer. The surreal flame danced and flickered in the winter breeze, but stayed intact. Slowly, Sir Hellsing dipped her cigar to the light and puffed, igniting the tip. The girl then lit up her own coffin nail and sat down beside her acquaintance.

"Um, thank you." Integra stated. While she was used to all kinds of unusual happenings, this one caught her a bit off guard. For a few moments the women smoked in comfortable silence. She then introduced herself.

"I'm Liz Sherman from the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation - United States of America." She extended her hand.

"Sir Integra Windgates Fairbrook Hellsing, Hellsing Organization, United Kingdom." The girl arched a bemused eye-brow. They shook hands.

"Now that's a mouthful. How are you enjoying the convention so far?"

"It's a bit dry."

"Yeah, and that blonde guy keeps talking, talking - I thought he would never shut up about the ' forces of evil'." With that, she made little quotation marks in the air. Sir Hellsing stifled a giggle.

"The Bishop loves the sound of his own voice, I'm afraid. He has a lot more to say I'm sure." Integra stated between puffs of her cigar. She felt a soft presence approach from behind her, and felt relief when a pair of familiar hands gently laid upon her shoulders.

"Sir Hellsing, would you be so kind to tell me where you have been? I was looking for you inside." a velvet-voice inquired. She turned to see her vampire, clad in a sharp, black suit and tinted, orange glasses. He smiled warmly at Liz and nodded a greeting.

"I was inside for a while helping someone." she stated"She was a-" her train of conversation was cut off by a strange sensation and the approaching of a huge shadow that spilled over the master and servant. A huge person, no _creature_, came towards the young girl. It was at least over 6' 5'' and built like a brick wall- square-shouldered and strong. He wore a flowing leather coat over the massive frame and the skin was the colour of deep blood. His face was rugged, yet it retained a certain handsome quality and sensitivity. There was a definite super-natural air to the stranger.

"_Demon-he's a demon!" Integra silently exclaimed. _Yet, there was neither wickedness, nor malice surrounding his being. Instead, there was a gentle, protective nature and a soft demeanor under all that muscle.

"Hey, somebody over here is smokin' the good stuff." he proclaimed with a friendly tone.

"Hi Red." she greeted and squeezed his giant hand.

"Hate to mess up the coffee break, but you're needed A.S.A.P. Sorry bout this folks." he said apologetically."You got good taste, Lady." He indicated the expensive cigar smoldering in her hand.

"Hope to see you later." Liz stated to the couple as she rose and took the devil-man's hand. "Hey, maybe we'll go to the Newark Smoke Emporium and pick up some of those for your birthday..." she whispered. The pair crossed to the other side of the yard, where she pecked his cheek. The sight brought a smile to Alucard's lips.

"They make a fine couple, don't they-gives one hope..."

His own hands began to reach for his master's and then grasped the warm cigar. Instead of smoking it like last time, he inhaled the pungent aroma, and shook his head.

"This _is_ one of the really expensive ones-you only have these when your very happy, or very upset."

"I grow weary of this place, and its owner." She grabbed her vice back and pulled in a long drag. The vampire sat down next to her.

"Hold out just a little longer. I found the 'Barron' today and made contact. I feel that within a few nights, you'll have no more Voodoo doing your family in."

"Hope you're right, or we'll have to find a place to bury the Bishop's body-come along Alucard, the second half of the day's beginning."

Later- Evening- The Guest Room

After the activities of the day, Sir Hellsing found herself worn-out, exhausted mentally and drained physically. She craved a long bath with plenty of bubbles and a glass of something strong. She removed her glasses and rubbed her temples. The soft, yet firm pressure provided some relief, but massaging one's self was never as good as when someone else did it.

"Servant, I know you're close, can you please come here?" she asked.

"_Such a polite tone, you must want something, very badly..." A voice resounded in her head. _

"_Come out, please." She sensed him in the room, but did not know where to search first. _

"_I have a request, too-will you honour it?" _

"_Depends on what it is." _Integra felt something flit at her cheek. A luminous, red butterfly danced above her head, alighting on her hair, like a radiant flower- dozens upon dozens more surrounded her. They were beautiful, but when she touched them, they burst into a tiny rain of crimson dust.

"_Lovely, aren't they?_" Alucard's voice resounded. This was so unusual for him-he often took the form of insects, though they were rarely things of beauty and grace. He tended to favour the darker, nastier beasts, like the spiders and multi-legged horrors, rather than these delightful beings.

"_They appear so fragile, so weak, yet their wings can beat a million times and carry them across the oceans... deceivingly strong creatures. Lie back and I'll soothe you, master." _Integra laid down on the bed, her head welcoming the pillow. She was mesmerized by the spiral of claret wings and their dance-like movements circling above her. She closed her eyes for a moment and felt a pleasing pressure along her temples and forehead. A sigh escaped her lips and she began to relax. A delicate touch brushed across her mouth -she was expecting a phantom butterfly, but instead she reached up and felt the face of her vampire. Eyes still closed , she returned the kiss- sweet, innocent and touched with passion.

"_Still frightened of letting go, aren't you?" _She felt his weight shift more solidly upon her, yet she did not break the contact, her hands caressing his shoulders and mouth still sealed upon his.

"_Yes." She replied. _He could sense the fear buried deep inside her, crashing up against her adoration , like the ocean against the rocks. Alucard unraveled the harsh words of the Bishop - the title of 'whore' and all of his own fifthly needs projected upon her, driving the woman even further away from her own desires. As much as he yearned for her, he wanted their love to be shared terms, not forced-he had tried that before and it only resulted in a prior century's disaster. She withdrew her lips from his and brushed them across his cheek.

"What do you want?" she asked, calmly, softly, but he could still feel her pulse sprint .

"I need to feed a little." he whispered."Please."

"But I thought you had some the other day?," she said."You were in the middle of it when-" he pressed his mouth to hers roughly and arched his hips, causing Integra to grasp at him, matching her mate in his passion. "_I need yours- please, please... I'm weak from this morning. " _He was practically begging."_Am I not your devoted servant? Don't I deserve just a little taste?" _The pair broke , leaving each other breathless. The woman shifted over and began to pull off her glove and roll the sleeve of her shirt up. Integra presented the smooth skin of her wrist to him. With a flick of sharp nails, a thick line of blood appeared and the creature had his fill. The long tongue lapped the flesh, but the daggers remained sheathed.

His deadly fangs could have easily shred the muscle from her bones, but the thought would have never crossed his mind. Alucard would had willingly bit the hand off Abraham's proud body, slit Viktor Van Hellsing's cowardly throat if he had possessed the power to do so, and would have gladly slain that lech Arthur in the middle of the act in their bed. Integra, was the master he respected. She was his equal in passion, ferocity, nobility, and in the tenderness he still held in the farthest corners of his heart. It was no secret that the bestial part of him burned to turn her, to make her a fine No-Life Queen, but in doing so, he would lose her forever. A mortal-like coupling would be best; he would rather have a few, brief moments of happiness, then an eternal misery.

While her wrist ached, Integra had gotten used to these feedings from a young age- through currently, they took on a far more sensual tone that when she had been a girl The creature's mouth was gently soothing- a heavy mix of pleasure and pain. His hands stroked her lean torso, fingers sliding under the vest to caress closer to her skin. For a spilt second, she yearned to peel away the layers of wool and cotton and allow him to touch bare flesh. The temptation lingered in her thoughts long enough for her servant to read them.

"_Whatever you want, whenever you want..." He reminded her. _It would have been so effortless, so easy to slip a warm hand up the side of the skirt, or push a willing finger or two through a few button holes...She poised his hand at the curve of her shoulder, not sure whether it should travel upwards to the silk of her hair, or allow him to get closer to the beating of her heart. Alucard chose her hair for the meantime, sensing that she was far too contrasting in her emotions for heavy intimacy at the moment.

However, that didn't mean that he couldn't_ play. _He sealed up the gash with a slow lick, and kissed his host. The sweet, coppery essence of blood filled her mouth, rolling over her in waves.

"_Do you like the way we taste together?" he asked. _

"_Yes." _She buried her hands in the thick, tangle of jet hair, and dove deeper into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, gasping when he pulled from her

"_Do you want me to keep kissing you? " _She reached for him to return to her hungry lips, but instead he began to peck her temple, cheeks, chin and trailed lower, pillowing his head on her chest. The frantic rhythm inside her rib cage increased, and it reminded him of a dove beating its wings against brass bars. He nuzzled her bosom and kissed through the fabric, fingers trailing up the sides of her thighs, nails scraping oh-so sightly against the silken material of hose, making her shiver and grow rather _responsive. _A breathy, little gasp was released as his hands slid upwards an inch or two .

"_Would you like me to go higher?" _She did not respond at first, but was desperately trying to keep composure against a succession of lusty thoughts-the last one being particularly graphic and all too detectable by her servant. He rose up and breathed hotly into her ear.

"We can certainly attempt _that _if you wish." he purred." You'd even still _technically _be a virgin afterwards, so..." With that final comment, she had had enough. Integra pushed him off the bed, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed equally with embarrassment and heated frustration.

"You were supposed to _relax _me not torture me!" she fumed. The creature regained his balance and began to grin, kneeling up at her side, chin pillowed in his hands, elbows digging into the mattress.

"And if you let me do what you were picturing, you would be, very much so ."She picked up a pillow and threatened to smack him with it.

"Do you want me to leave?" He pouted, eyes mirroring a hurt, puppy-dog look.

"Ohhh, stop that! You're the Scourge of Europe- not the Queen's Corgi!" He curled closer to her, attempting to anchor his head on her lap.

"I can be whatever I want." he sang.

"You are not cute." He snuggled into her and looked upwards, crimson eyes warm and watery. Integra huffed, and then broke down, running her fingers through his thick hair.

"Fine, maybe you are, just a little, in a things-that-go-bump-in-the-night-way. You live to torment me, don't you?" The Cheshire grin flashed.

"Absolutely. Can I draw you a hot bath to make it up ?"

"Yes."

"Can I join you?"

"NO."

"Bloody Hell."

Loa- In Voodoo, the gods and goddesses are called "Loa", meaning "spirits". Different spirits reside over various aspects of nature, human ideals and emotions, just like any other deities. However, the loa are very human in their needs, wants and desires and must constantly be appeased and catered to, or the results can be fatal.

The prior 'mistake' refers to Mina Harker.


	20. Chapter 20

ShadowPlay II

The bath and feeding had left her feeling a bit light-headed, but completely at ease. Seated in front of the vanity, Integra brushed out her hair in long, even strokes, remembering for a moment how her mother had shown her how to comb it out without getting snagged. Lady Sheena herself had a mane of deep, chestnut hair that felt almost to the small of her back She usually wore it bound into a traditional braid or divided the mass into a pair and wove them around her head like a crown. Sir Hellsing recalled with tenderness how her father would sometimes lovingly run his fingers over it, or in more private family moments, undo the rope-like braid, and let it fall freely.

"_Isn't your mummy beautiful?," he would say, twirling a thick strand of hair around his finger. Her mother would look shy and cover her smile with her hand. _

"_I think she's the most beautiful lady in the world!" a little Integra would exclaim, the proud statement usually followed by a rewarding hug or pat on the head from her parents. Those were happy times-before blood, bullets, and basic training...before she had to place her smiles and open emotions away with dolls, dresses, and other childhood trappings. _

"You know, you think too much- those memories are too loud." Alucard stated from the bed; he had given his master privacy before and during the bath-after all, in spite of the previous tempting and testing, he was still a gentleman. Now that she was re-dressed and attending to her needs, he was content to watch.

"I am allowed to have some private thoughts now and again." she stated calmly, her teeth gritting as she encountered a particularly nasty tangle. "Ouch! There-all out." she proclaimed with an expert stroke of the brush.

"I'd brush it for you, but that's just a little _too_ subservient. If Seras was here, she'd be thrilled to play with your hair."

"She did a fine job of it the night of the opera."

"You know, she really does try to hard to please you- "

"I realize and appreciate her actions and loyalty greatly-more than I let on." She pulled the long, honey-coloured hair into a loose bun at her nape. Alucard sulked for a moment and came over to her side.

"I prefer it down-it looks more flattering on you."

"Unfortunately, I will be seeing the Bishop later on , and I do not want him to even attempt to touch it."Even the terrifying encounter from the music house did little to deter him this morning, so she would have to be even more on guard. She glanced upwards to the clock , its face proclaiming half-past five. She did not care to go down to supper and wanted to get her meetings over with as swiftly as possible

"Shall I escort you to dinner?"

"I'll get something to eat later on- I want to attend a few extra evening panels to free up the rest of my night," Alucard leaned into her and smiled.

"Are you taking me up on my offer tonight?"

"Yes- tonight we hunt- Search and Destroy."

Elsewhere-

The Master Bedroom

Sister Mariana woke up slowly from her groggy nap , yawning widely and stretching out her body. She turned to rouse her lover, when she noticed the only thing indicating Maxwell had been there, was lingering body heat and rumpled bed-coverings.

"_Oh well,", she thought" He probably had to go back down to the meeting and didn't want to wake me up_." The idea was pleasant, but a hint of denial was gnawing in her mind. His coldness only seemed to melt when they were in bed, and even then, it seemed as if he was a million miles away from her. She curled up into a small ball and hugged the pillow, her lower stomach beginning to cramp up a bit- Thank God. After a few days of worrying, she had taken a trip to the doctor's office and found out she was only a couple of days late from stress, nothing more.

They had taken precautions, but she was still a little nervous about the ordeal. After all, it would be so much better for them to be married first and_ then _have the family arrive. He would make an excellent father- so full of love and compassion; he had throughly covered her stepmother's medical bills and seemed to be so interested in the visiting children. Thoughts of a happy family danced in her head- there would be their own flesh and blood, and then they would be able to foster additional ones from the local orphanages to increase their joy. While his moods were unstable now, Mariana knew that once things calmed down a bit, he would return to the more caring man she knew and loved...wouldn't he?

When the pain subsided, she rose and padded her way into the bathroom to start to wash up and get redressed- underware was not exactly proper attire . The children had practice tonight at seven and she wanted to go over a few pieces that she would play for the company tomorrow. She began to brush her teeth, but when she started the tap, she looked down in the sink, and gasped. Blood, there was a ring of blood around the stopper and a small trail of it down the side of the sink, across the floor and all the way over to the linen closet. She placed the toothbrush and tube of paste down and followed the gory markers.

"Oh no, maybe Enrico cut himself shaving.," she said to herself , but there was so much of the stuff that she worried that perhaps the injury was more serious. The girl opened up the closet and peered inside-it was huge! It was almost the size of a small room with space to move down the center like a walk-through wardrobe. She proceeded to the rear, the light growing dimmer. Off to the left of the closet was another full-sized door. Mariana slowly cracked it , and peered in. A thick, heavy scent hit her in the face as soon as she opened the portal- the atar of roses, essence of myrrh, the rich note of Port wine and the harsh scent of rotting meat.

There was a large, brass bowl on the floor, surrounded by rose petals and thick, red and pink candles which appeared to be carved mimicking the hour-glass curves of a woman. She crouched down to see what occupied the container and wished to God that she hadn't; the festering, pulpy remains of what appeared to be the hearts of small animals writhed with maggots and carrion bugs. She released a scream and almost fell scampering up to get away from the foul offering. Mariana dashed out of the space and headed back into the light. She crashed into The Arch Bishop who appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Oh My God, Enrico, Enrico!" she sobbed, clinging to his frame for comfort. "I just saw the most awful thing inside there!" The girl turned upwards to him, but his face seemed oddly calm. He put a hand to her cheek.

"Poor Mariana, you just had to go and play where you shouldn't have..." Fear gripped her gut.

"I don't understand, I , I..."

She was not able to get out even a single shriek, before everything went black.

Later, That Evening-

Sir Hellsing had given a fine account of bio-chemical weapons and their effects on the un-dead, the living and their environment. As much as she wanted to be 'politically correct' and claim that the substances were biodegradable and non-toxic, she had to confess that in order to protect the United Kingdom, sometimes a little harsher stuff had to be used. After all, ghouls were a lot harder to get rid of then they seemed. The night was beginning to wind down, and rumbling in her stomach made her wish that she had stopped and grabbed a meal. As she moved towards the back of the conference hall, Sister Yumiko presented her with a small, creme-coloured envelope. She gave her a sweet grin, said nothing, and left to attend to some children who were returning from supper. Slowly, Integra opened the note and read it.

_Dolcissima, _

_I regret my actions from this morning greatly- how could I have been such a fool to treat you with such disrespect. Truly, I have never dealt with a woman of your caliber, so perhaps I am just a little intimidated. It takes a very strong man to admit when he is wrong, and that , my dear, I am. In a show of good nature and repentance, please join me for a private meal in the conservatory, pronto. _

_In Love and Friendship, _

_His Holiness, the Corpial Arch Bishop, _

_Enrico Antonio Cervantes - Maxwell _

If she had not been such polite company she would have blown her nose with this pretentious piece of treacle. The only 'caliber' she was thinking about right now was should she put one between his legs, and let him suffer, or right between his eyes and end this whole, bloody mess quickly... However, while attempting to play along, she would have to let him pick the playground. She asked a house servant where the conservatory was , and headed towards it. However, she was not going in un-armed- secured in the bottom of her briefcase was a Glock Handgun, for human threats and a small silver dagger for in-human ones. After all, a girl in her line of work couldn't be too careful. The later weapon, compact and deadly, was hid in the front pocket of her suit jacket-the gun would have been too conspicuous. She decided against informing Alucard of her detour- she could handle herself against this man, and she wanted her vampire to continue trailing the supernatural foe here at the villa.

Sir Hellsing traveled down the elabourate hallways until she heard the sound of a piano above the din of the visitors. The strains of Bach filled the air and the music was quite good, each note played with precision and emotion. She gave the heavy paneled door a knock, and Maxwell's voice bade her enter. While she had a cautious feeling rise in the back of her throat, the scene was indeed legitimate; a small table set with china, silverware and two, tall glasses filled to the brim with deep, red wine that seemed to glow like rubies in the candle-light. The Bishop was continuing the last part, fingers flying over the ivories. He was clad quite elegantly in a black, Mandarin-collared silk shirt, and his hair was spread over his shoulders in loose waves. He looked the part of the melancholy, Romantic musician or artist, so enthralled in his work that he barely noticed Integra approaching him. When he finished, even she had to complement him.

"Bravo-I didn't know that you could play." He smiled at her, not a sneer, nor one of his pompous smirks, but a genuine show of pleasure.

"Thank you. Would you care to sit down." She took her place a comfortable distance across from him and composed herself. The atmosphere was indeed elegant and her eyes darted around the room to behold some of the large-scale paintings that adorned the walls.A pair of angelic eyes from a Renaissance Madonna seemed to watch over her from the left corner, while a wild faun leered at her from a Greek-inspired scene.

"These are some impressive copies." she stated, attempting to ease into a conversation. He sipped his wine and gave her a sly look.

"Who says they're copies- we have quite a collection of fine art from Italy and Spain- I even posses some of Goya's ink drawings in my personal study."

"I see."

"Did you read my note."

"Yes."

"And..."

Sir Hellsing cleared her throat and began in an even tone.

"Sir, you have been pushing and pulling in two of the most opposite directions of courtesy since I have arrived here. On one hand, you extend a sentiment of friendship, even going so far as to request a politically arranged marriage, but then you slander me and sank to the tactics of blackmail, assault and even going so far as to threaten the lives of innocent, unconnected people-how do you think I am going to feel?" Her voice rose sharply, but she remained calm.

"Disgusted, aggravated, and angry-you probably hate me right now, and I couldn't blame you." Maxwell settled his glass down, and attempted to connect with her, eyes peering into hers. " I am not a man of mild emotions- I either love or hate, like or loathe-there is very little of this English 'Stiff Upper Lip' of cordial indifference in me. I have grown to love and fear you since I encountered you nearly seven years ago. When I first met you, you were a woman, but unlike any other woman I have ever known. You are honest, straight-forward, and afraid of no one- a man's heart in a woman's body. "

"My heart is my own, gender, I would think, has nothing to do with it." she interjected.

"I cannot win you over either in the battlefield or in the war of love, so, I did resort to some desperate measures to attempt to claim your hand."

"Desperate is an understatement , and I am not be claimed like some brass ring, or consolation prize. You have a lot to learn about women." Maxwell seemed genuinely remorseful.

"I will be glad to support the families of the servicemen you lost, and I don not expect you to remain for the entirety of the convention with all that has transpired, but please can we not at least part ways amicably?" Integra shook her head.

"The last time we tried, you called me a harlot."

"I'm sorry." The look on his face was heart-breaking. "You must excuse me-I have had very few good experiences with women. My own mother abandoned me and my stepmother rejected me -that is enough to make any man a bit weary of the opposite sex. You grew up with love and care, you would never understand..." For a moment, the soft spot in Integra's heart was touched; the man had been fighting a losing battle since he was a child, and kicking him when he was this weak would be far from noble. She raised the scarlet glass to him.

"Should we at least have a drink to say our goodbyes?" she asked. He retrieved his cup and the two sipped . The wine was delicious, like nothing the woman had ever tasted in her life. She savoured the rich, full-bodied bouquet and the slight hint of cherry on the back of her tongue.

"It's Port, " The Bishop informed her."Not just any Port, either. It was a case that was rumoured to be in the Estate of Puccini himself. It's over a century old and I was hoping to share it with you before you decided to -leave-or stay in Italy." She gazed deep into the dark colour and swirled the drink around; it reminded her of boudoir velvet, of dried rose petals, or split blood at midnight...

"Lord, can't I ever have a non-macabre thought..." she mused.

"What?" he questioned. Her cheeks flushed-Integra was not aware that she had outwardly spoken_ that_ thought. She shook her head and downed the rest of the port. It was very soothing, and spread all the way down her gullet like a slow burn.

"It is boring to drink without eating, don't you think?" Enrico asked. He rose and returned with a steaming, covered dish from the side of the room-it was a braised brisket of beef in a rich Marsala sauce with roasted green vegetables on the side. It smelled inviting and the wine had made Integra quite hungry. He placed a smaller dish of rolled olives and peppers in front of her.

"Have a taste- it will whet your appetite for... things yet to come. Would you like more wine?"

Normally her inner-siren would have blared off now- she would be either ten paces out of the situation, or suiting up ready to battle the threat closing in on her, but for whatever the reason, perhaps it was the Bach ,or the soft candle-light making her companion absolutely radiant, or the intoxicating Port, Integra stayed . She merely smiled and accepted the refilled glass and all the hell that was about to come along with it...

Dolcissima- Italian for "sweet one" Also, in The Carmine Codex-remember that from the beginning?- there is a song by the same title, proclaiming the love of an innocent girl as she devotes herself fully and physically to her beloved.


	21. Chapter 21

X

The Kitchen , Hellsing Manor-

After supper, Walter retired to the solace to be found in a large, soapy basin of dishes in the sink. While some servants loathed dishwashing, he found it oddly soothing- a way to sort of go on auto-pilot and shut out the events of the day, like a zen exercise. The fragrant water also did a splendid job of warming up his hands which were beginning to develop a mild case of arthritis, especially as the long, winter months progressed. He rolled up his sleeves and dove in, busily scrubbing the remains of both lunch and dinner. From behind, he heard the clicking of boot heels and felt a familiar presence.

"Hallo Mr. Dornez-can I help you?" the blonde vampire asked.

"You can dry if you like." Seras nodded and moved a little to her left to get the dishtowel and begin to aid him.

"How goes the research?' he inquired. She polished a ceramic gravy boat- anything silver was off limits.

"Finding way too much about zombies and Haiti than I'd ever hope to. It seems that if Section XIII, or any of its crack-pot friends are trying to build up an enslaved army, it's really quite simple- whether they use the natural or chemically enhanced method, the result is the same, and the damage is done. By the time the victim snaps out of it, the change is so great, that they really can't recover. The problem with the chemical version is that the system becomes bonded to these acids and such so the host's body becomes dependant on it. The only thing that will help a ChemZombie survive is creating a mild version of the poison that they then have to take their whole life."

"Like giving a junkie morphine instead of heroine to get by?"

"Yeah, something like that-pretty sick, huh?" Seras plunged her hand into the bubbling water, but then let out a yelp of pain and pulled her hand back up.

"Knife?" She shook her hand and revealed the sizzling palm- contact with silver still had that effect on her.

"No, Sterling- I think a teaspoon." She giggled a bit. "The mighty Draculina done in by a rather dull spoon." Walter grinned , in spite of his pleasant mood, Seras knew that he was still shaken up by the violence of the last few days. She could detect a pale, violet bruise lingering near his collar-a memento from Mr. Williams, or now the _late_ Mr. Williams. While a snapped neck would be merely a deterrent for an immortal, it would have been fatal to a human. If she had not stopped the fiend, Seras could have been attending an additional funeral.

"Walter." she stated. The man paused and looked at her-her eyes were filled with concern and warmth.

"I'm really glad that you're all right- are you in any pain?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I should have been on my toes more-we both knew that something was not right, I should have acted on my gut feeling." He plunged his hands into the water, and felt a few , little fingers intertwine with his. The girl smiled at him and gave a squeeze.

"You did fine, Walter, just fine."

Elsewhere- The Catacombs, Maximilian Villa

The vampire paced up and down the ancient corridors, kicking up dust at his feet. He had seen his master just a few short hours ago- there was no need to worry about her; she was probably just detained in a meeting. He had attended these panels and discussions with Integra this afternoon-they dragged on and rambled into each other. She was fine. The idea of time did not concern Alucard, after all, he had an abundance of it, but it was the fact that he could not reach out and touch her telepathically nor speak to her mentally. It was if a great, dull wall had come between them, muffling all communication and contact, smothering their bond. This got him nervous. If he could not reach her within the hour, he would go searching for her first, then hunt. A dry laugh echoed in his head, then another, and an additional one bounced off the stone and bleached bone walls.

"_Perhaps, she's gone off and found a human lover..." A voice like dead leaves in a breeze whispered. _

"_Maybe she's a sleep in the arms of the Bishop..." another suggested._

"_They could be rutting on the alter..." a sensuous one purred. Their chuckling grew bawdy and dense. _

Alucard furrowed his brow and barred his teeth.

"Not funny, little ghosts." The skulls that lined the catacombs began to laugh and tremble.

"_Can't help it, sir," one broken head stated "We know by far too much to suspect the worst of human nature-especially here." _

"_It's a dungeon of torture and pain." a deep voice boomed._

" _A prison of memories and might-have-beens," a softer one proclaimed._

" _Here lies a den of sin and vice.," Another hissed_

"_No, it's a brothel filled with rape and fear.," a female tone quivered. It was however, the tiniest, weakest voice that truly disturbed the creature._

"_This is a bad, bad place.," a child's timbre explained._

The vampire took in a calming breath and exhaled-he wanted to smash the dead walls and put all of these souls to rest, but it wouldn't be enough. Whatever was holding them here was by far more powerful than the stones and iron, the marble and glass of the actual house- something dark and extremely powerful held its grip firmly here .No wonder the loa wanted to be present, and its servants knew what kind of power could be harvested in such a dire home. A shuffling could be heard down the hallway and Alucard's ears pricked up. The steps were light, and definitely made by someone on the slight side.

"_Master?" he called mentally. There was no answer. He repeated it with more concentration, still no response. Finally, Alucard spoke._

"Master?" The steps drew closer in time with the beats of his heart.

Meanwhile-

The notes of "Carmen" were expertly played , each one passionately stirring up the image of the gypsy and the crowds in Sir Hellsing's mind. It had been years since she had seen the opera, but recalled it with fond memories. She sat to Maxwell's right, on the divan behind him and the piano. Supper had been filling; the rich sauce was quite superb-the wine had complemented it very nicely. Speaking of which, she was now on her almost third glass. The Port was warm and sensually smooth. Usually, she held her liquor well, though she was beginning to feel rather sleepy. She angled her head back just slightly, but could feel gravity take over and pull her down further.

"Would you like to play?" the Arch Bishop asked. Integra raised her head and eyed the piano. It had been a very, very long time since she had even touched a musical instrument-it would be rather pleasant, a treat she did not get the enjoyment of very often...

"Why not?" Maxwell exchanged places as she rose and took the bench. She first stretched out her fingers and began the delicate notes of Fur Elsie- a child's song really, but she felt that she had to start somewhere, and it would be easier to present an elementary piece well -done, rather than a more advanced level half-done. It struck Sir Hellsing as rather odd that her fingers had now been so used to pulling triggers and writing documents instead of creating things; the making of music was pleasing, enjoyable . Her one note turned sour, and she faltered. She attempted to re-try it , but failed. The Bishop came to her side.

"Perhaps, if you moved your two fingers like this-," he directed her ring and pinky a little more to the side."You will be able to put more pressure on it and tap the note. Sometimes, one has to push in a new direction to obtain harmony." She continued the piece under his guidance. His eyes were soft and tone instructional. As much as she hated to admit it, he was a decent teacher. Slowly, he sat down beside her, and suggested a piece.

"We could play something that requires four hands- you play the top notes, while I can hit the bottoms ones." While the offer sounded innocent enough, it was his closeness that made the woman uneasy. Her instincts guided her off of the bench and to her feet. The room spun a little, yet she was not drunk- her body felt so light, as if she was made our of tissue paper, or gauze.

"I think I should go." Integra stated. Enrico gazed at her gently.

"Sit down for just a little longer- you look so tired." As if her legs had a mind of their own, she strode back to the couch and sat. The man was on the bench, close, yet not too close, still civil, still calm.

"When did you first learn to play, Sir Integra."

"My mother taught me when I was small. I used to enjoy it very much and continued for quite some time. Responsibility , I'm afraid, crushed my inner Mozart."

"Before my final years in the Seminary, I studied violin and classical guitar extensively. I was also the canter for the High Masses. My duties also left me less and less time to devote to my passions."

"We all have our sacrifices to make." For a moment they looked at each other with some level of understanding. They were both people whom had to slough off so much of their own lives for the sake of others, that it was natural for some of the regrets to surface now and then. She refused to call this moment a 'bond', but none the less, an understanding it was. The man inched nearer.

"I want you to stay." he whispered, low and pleasant "Talk with me, let me find out who you really are." The timbre of his voice was sweet, soothing, like warm honey. Her limbs felt heavy and a heat flushed across her cheeks and neck- such interest, such manners- so this is what it was like to be wooed...

"_Snap out of it! " A tiny voice of reason decreed in the back of her head, but the wine and winding music left her dazed. The divan was so warm and inviting- she could feel the essences of cherries and roses making her mouth water-it was like being seduced from the inside out. She gazed at the Bishop for a moment and he appeared softer, more handsome than she had remembered- pale skin, long, Raphael waves, deep, emerald eyes... a spell was being woven and she was wrapped up within in its strands._

Within an instant, he was inches from her face-she could feel the breath on her chin and his lips started to graze over her cheek. His hair smelled like orange water and a heavy lock of it spilled onto her shoulder. Hands brushed slightly over her own and the space between them closed.

"Aren't you tiered of being cold?" he cooed "Don't you crave to be understood, loved, appreciated?" Maxwell pulled on the pin at the base of her neck, and her hair spilled downwards like a golden waterfall. He caressed a few strands and gazed lovingly into her face.

"I, I" She could not think or speak. It was if a wet blanket was smothering her mind and her voice was hidden somewhere deep inside. His nose rubbed against hers, and a hand tilted her chin up to meet his mouth in light kiss .She was shocked- she began to squirm, but she was uncoordinated and felt herself slide downwards, being pulled under.

"_I don't care .." a small sultry voice in her heart whispered, "Let this happen, let these frozen years finally thaw...take this icicle chastity, warm me to the core..." Integra did not recognize this facet of herself and panicked _ _This was not her-it was not her heart talking! _Maxwell's hands slipped over her waist .his own form starting to cover hers. His lips found hers and pressed; his teeth pulled at the damn of her mouth until it spilled open, the flavour of the Port thick in the kiss. Integra attempted to push him off, shoving with dulled strength. He laughed.

"Poor girl-you have no head for wine.." The horror that she was now flat on her back rekindled her voice.

"Off-get off me!" she commanded.

"You are in no position to make demands, my dear. Have no fear, I still only want talk, but isn't this more comfortable?" Integra reached up a hand to slap at his face, but it came across as a mere pat; her body was quite drugged

"Bastard, you poisoned the wine!"

"Poisoned-not at all, just think of it as a mild sedative to make you more, responsive.I want to play a game with you, Ciccolina, to get to know my betrothed better."

"What? Are you daft!?" He hushed a finger to her lips.

"I'll ask some questions- if I like what I hear, I'll reward you, perhaps with a little kiss..."

"Some reward..." she spat. His weight settled more firmly upon her and his grip tightened.

"If I think you're lying, or I don't like what I hear, I'll take something from you-perhaps your gloves or glasses, or more_ precious _things..."He grinned sadistically, and for the first time, Integra felt genuinely threatened.

"Sick dog- I should fuc- " her threat was cut short by a sharp pressure on her wrists and she winced.

"Now, now-remember what I said about language- a fine lady as yourself should not use such phrases. Now where do we begin? When is your birthday?"

"What?"

"Birthday- everyone has one-when is yours?" She had no choice- until she could regain her strength, she answered.

"October 29th."

"A Scorpio-quite fitting." He pecked her forehead. For a thin man, he was very strong. His lips settled close to her ear, while his hands wandered over the front of her.

"Are you armed?" he asked.

"No." His hands continued to grope near her stomach- not sexual, but searching. They plucked the folded dagger from the front vest pocket. Maxwell pulled the weapon up and displayed it to her, with a disapproving shake of his head.

"Not good." he reprimanded, and tossed the dagger well out of reach. He plucked Integra's glasses of her face and stoked her cheek.

"You have really beautiful eyes." Sir Hellsing cursed at him, but it didn't phase him in the slightest-he found it quite amusing. "I want to get a little more personal. How do you keep those beasts of yours at bay- magik? Rituals? Certainly , having such beings in the household must be dangerous-how do you control them?" His grip was like iron and his tone grew darker.

"Trade secret."

"Not funny- do you perform Black Magik, or are there more base ways to tame the beasts..." Enrico let a hand slip down her torso, the fingers digging through the cloth. "Do you feed them your own blood- are you a witch?"

"Why? Are you going to burn me at the stake? Do you like playing inquisitor?" The Bishop's eyes hardened and he began to undo her vest, nearly popping the buttons off. His hand had positioned itself over her heart.

"Proud woman-I am concerned for your soul!"

"Have concern for your own!" Next, the ascot was slowly unraveled-he pulled it free as a child would undo a ribbon from a favoured gift.

"I know what my soul is like, Integra, I merely wish to preserve yours-after all, a husband must love his wife like Christ loves the Church." Tapered fingers toyed with her shirt collar opening button after button.

"Don't ." she warned. Her attacker placed a feather -light kiss on her throat, then another.

"You don't command them with your wiles, do you? Sexual rewards may be quite enough to keep man, or beast, by your side." He nibbled the curve of her neck and Integra winced as she felt the air hit her chest and waist. Greedy hands groped and slipped under her armor of lace and wire.

"A bit smaller than what I usually like , but _very_ well-shaped."

"Toss off!," Integra hissed Enrico arched a brow and cast a naughty glance.

"With or without your help? But let us be serious again-are you still really a virgin?" he breathed,"or is it just merely a title , hmm?" The nails raked against tender flesh and the woman bit back the pain-she would give him nothing, not a drop of satisfaction in his torment.

"I am." He laughed at her reply.

"Oh _really_, perhaps, we should test your statement." She felt his hips roll against her own and hands began to slip up the sides of the skirt. She damned herself for not changing, as fingers crept like worms on her thighs. They paused for a moment at the tops of the hose, fingering the lace.

"Nice, very nice." he stated,"Tell me, do you allow your servant to touch you like this-do you wish it was him instead of me right now?" She turned her face and swallowed. The hose began to roll downward and he caressed her flesh underneath. "Do you allow him to hold you, please you, make love to you?"

"No." Suddenly, he jerked her upwards, face to face, a look of fury blazing in the Bishop's eyes.

"Liar. You held him in the garden, kissed him took company with him that night!"

"He's my _beloved _but not my lover." she retorted. Her body was still deadened, but Integra fought out of his grasp as best as she could. Enrico snagged her left arm and brought her down again with a sharp thud against the side of her hip. Like a predator on wounded prey, he dove.

"Integra, Integra, playing hard to get as always..." He smothered her mouth and the woman could feel a panic that froze her blood-she had been shot at, clawed, bitten, nearly killed dozens of times, but her virginity had never been jeopardized. His fingers poised mere inches away from doing irrevocable damages, when finally she broke.

"Don't, please, don't." she whispered, voice quivering. The Bishop licked the side of her face and pressed upwards.

"_Don't do __what_?" Lust dripped from every syllable.

" Please don't do this...Enrico. Please,_ please._" The sound of his name being said with such fear was sweeter than any concerto ever composed. He removed his hand from her lap and gingerly pulled the skirt down . The Bishop covered her torso, cradled her in his arms and kissed her gently, as one would soothe a child. In spite of her bravery, a few renegade tears had slipped from her eyes. Enrico brushed them away and put his lips to her ear.

"I told you one day you would beg underneath a man... All ll I ask of you is to love me, fear me, do as I say, and I will be your devoted slave. I will care for you like no other, love you all the days of my life and make you happy..." Her eyes burned with an unholy rage.

"Sick, you're a sick, horrible.." her words were silenced by his mouth.

"Shhhh...That's just your pride talking, _cara mia,_No more games tonight-think about my offer in the morning." He placed her like a limp rag doll on the divan, and smoothed her hair. The whole experienced felt unreal, like a twisted dream. He crouched down and whispered a good night, leaving the woman to regain what scraps of dignity she could in the dark. With numb fingers, Sir Hellsing re- buttoned her clothes and her spirit regained it sharpness. A quote from Winston Churchill entered her mind-

"_A dark night can make for a rather bloody sunrise."_

Oh, yes- the dawn would be very , very bloody indeed...

Ciccolina- "Honey Bunny", "Honey Lamb". There was also an Italian adult film star of the same nick-name who actually ran for government office back in the late 1980's. She had some excellent views on health-care, child care and more modern marriage laws- I believe that she represented for the modified Socialist Party- I'm not sure if she won or not, but it seems that she had a lot of intelligence to match her other er, talents...


	22. Chapter 22

The Eternal

"So, you were expecting someone else?", Angelique questioned. The vampire gritted his teeth.

"What do you want, witch?," he half-hissed. The woman slid closer to him, something small cradled in her hands.

"You have the nerve to attack my husband while we are all here at the Bishop's request as guests- such a poor show of manners deserves a punishment!"

"Attack? You are creating poisons and threatening my family-I am merely defending what's mine!" The skulls began to chatter wildly and a great rattling of bones filled the air . The woman pitched the secret object towards the ground near Alucard's feet. It was an egg, which exploded in a cloud of dust. Thick, white powder, dense as flour, filled the space and chocked the creature for a moment It's smell was harsh and caustic-garlic, salt, chalk, the crushed bones of Saints- a binding spell of the Old World. The Cheshire King cursed and gasped for a minute, falling to the stone floor, while Mrs. Le Chat closed in , a triumphant smile present. That look of victory was soon wiped off her face when the vampire looked up, eyes gleaming murder and a shark's welcoming grin splitting his cheeks.

"Nice attempt, too bad I'm a little too carnal to be a spirit..." He lunged up at the woman, seized her, and pinned her down A clawed hand shot up, and racked across his eyes, blinding him temporally, but his grip was harsh enough to snap bone. Black blood ran down his temples and cheeks, splattering on Angelique's face.

"Why are you and your husband serving the Arch Bishop? You both have more power than he could ever give you-why?"

"Obligation." was all the woman would explain through clenched teeth. He pressed harder on her wrists, the bones crunching underneath. Her grey eyes proclaimed none of her pain-they just gleamed like quartz, with an intense anger.

"I will give you one warning- leave my master be, or I'll have your family's blood in my cup, witch."She snarled and began to twitch and shift, her body becoming transparent until the form faded fully from the vampire's grasp. Alucard wiped the bitter blood from his face and all of a sudden felt a rather sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. While the powdered curse did not bind him to the spot as intended, Alucard began to wretch - all of the sanguine from his master and the medical bags violently splashed upon the floor. He fell to his knees and coughed up the rest with ragged hacks.

"_Looks like you're not so tough after all..." a skull to his left teased_. The creature made sure to spit that last bit of bloody bile out right into his eye sockets. He rose slowly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and clearing his mind.

"_Master." _He thought. Her vibrations had returned-he could sense her fully and she was _not_ well. Thoughts of the witch vanished as he phased through walls and the shadows of the night to reach her.

Elsewhere-

The Captain's Quarters- Hellsing Manor

It had been two-and-a-half hours of studying French-proper French, country dialects and Creole. It was beginning to merge and swirl around in Seras' head like some sort of intellectual stew ,and quite frankly, it was giving her a rather bad headache. Her head had begun to droop a little when a cup of something hot brushed pleasantly against her arm-it was a mug of coffee complete with a little Frenchman's blood. The Captain smiled at her and sat down.

"How's it going?", he asked. The little vampire groaned.

"I've got pretty much all of the documents from the one plant translated, including the where about of this place-it used to be a perfumery, quite a good area for distilling the Belladonna. To the outside world, it's still a perfume factory on the border of Switzerland, but to us, it's going to be a target in about three hours. Apparently, I still can't locate the other chemical plant in Haiti as of yet."

"Perhaps there isn't one- maybe the bastard's bluffing." She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

"If we can get this one closed down, we can find the other. Maybe master will use his powers of persuasion to get the truth." Seras paused and took a sip of the steaming beverage. "Mmm, gives a new meaning to the term 'French Roast"-thank you." Pip pecked her forehead and left her alone to continue her work. Meanwhile, upstairs in the parlour, a plan for the attack was brewing .

Lord Andrew sat at his cousin's desk, feeling a bit like an impostor, but for the sake of Integra and his family, he had to assume the role of Hellsing director for the time being. Serviceman and soldiers alike were counting on him to calculate their next move. His men were depending on him to make their efforts well spent and thoughts of the horrible transformation flashed before him. Williams did not have to die in vain, innocent people did not deserve this fate; it would be up to him to prevent others from falling to this nightmare. Andrew took a deep breath and pressed the button on the intercom.

"Captain Wells." The reception crackled, contact made.

"Sir!"

"You leave for France now, it's early, but if we can finish this mess before the dawn, all the better, understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" He clicked the intercom off, and folded his hands on the smooth surface of the desk. Zombies. Vampires. Catholics- perhaps he would have been better staying in India with the radicals and the mad bombers...

Meanwhile-

Guest Rooms, Maximilian Villa

Sir Hellsing had dragged herself back to her room, and peeled off her clothes. A quick, hot shower did a world of good to clear her head and get the revolting feeling of fingertips off her skin- she scrubbed until her flesh was pink and raw, but anything was better than to sense the phantom touch of Maxwell. Her stomach churned and she felt violently ill- she wretched once into the toilet rejecting a mix of bile and ...rose petals?! Shocked, she spat until the lingering taste of the port dissipated-what had been so sweet was turning to ash inside her mouth. She emerged wrapped in a heavy towel, and went straight for the vanity. Instead of sitting down at the table and having a good cry, Integra retrieved every piece of weaponry she had brought besides the Glock and the silver dagger- a classic Webley Mark VI pistol, a present from Andrew's India, lay in between her bras and intimates. She cocked the small, yet powerful weapon and placed it in front of her. A few other tools of defense including a set of throwing knives and a closed vial of liquid , silver nitrate surfaced. Her plan was simple-she would not whimper nor cower, but she would indeed cry havoc and come down like a hurricane on the head of his 'Holiness'. However, in addition to the handgun, she chose another set of 'weapons'- she pulled out her most fetching, feminine apparel . She was going to be an iron fist clothed in a lace glove. Since he desired her so badly, he was going to get exactly what he wanted, and then some...

Meanwhile...

Father Alexander could not sleep. He had retired early this evening and felt his gut turn and his mind ran a thousand miles per hour. He shifted in his bed and thought of the past events of the days prior; the uneasy tension between Maxwell and the Hellsing heir, the discovery of the Heathen alter in the garden , the tussle with the vampire, and the poor Haitian bastard coming through whatever ordeal with the creature from the other night. For a conference that was supposed to be supporting the religious communities present, he felt that all Hell was about to be unleashed at any moment. Also, he had not seen Sister Mariana all day and hoped to God that something had not happened between her and the Bishop to have him send her off back to the convent, or other places of a quick and silent escape. Christmas was rapidly approaching, as well as the concert- didn't the man have any consideration for the children and their labours? He huffed and shifted uncomfortably in the sheets- there was nothing he could do right now accept mutter a few prayers and hope that all would be a bit clearer in the morning.

Sister Yumiko settled in quietly after a hot cup of green tea and a few quick prayers. The guests were having yet another dinner tonight, but after a full day of attending to the Bishop and the children, she was spent. She shook her long, black hair out of her habit and changed for bed. Before shutting off the light, he nun sat up reading a letter from her fellow Sister, who had just completed a mission in Switzerland.

_My Dearest Yumiko-_

_I have just come through the assignment on the French border and cannot begin to tell you of what I found there- will human science ever be truly used for the forces of good, or will evil always twist men's minds? The entire operation was a success, though my leg will be taking a while to heal up. During the raid on the chemical factory, I was shot twice in the right leg- one was a flesh wound, but the other hit my knee-looks like I'll be limping for a bit, but the Doc said it could have been worse. I miss you, and hope that you are keeping an eye on Father Alexander and all of the wonderful kinders. I will regret not having you by my side for Christmas, but as soon as I am able to join you, I shall. Be well, and I long to see you, my sister-in-Christ..._

_Hinekel_

She smiled and folded the letter against her chest- relief settling in her spirit- her Hime was safe, and that's all that mattered. Christ's goodness will prevail, and as long as they had each other, that belief burned even brighter in Yumiko's heart. The little nun gave a word of thanks, folded the letter, and secured it under her pillow for safe keeping.

Marguerite settled into her bed with the extra quilt and her favourite stuffed toy, a little brown doggie named 'Ricki"-she had named it after one of the nice tutours at St. Augustine's who helped her with her reading. She settled against the huge, soft pillow, wincing a little when her cut brushed up against it. Her lip was feeling much better and that nice lady had been very sweet to her to help clean up all the blood. She didn't seem scared of the blood either-when Sister Yummie had to wipe up blood from scrapped knees and noses, she said she felt dizzy and funny- Father Alex said that Sister Yummie was a 'delicate' lady and the sight of blood made her sick. Maggie yawned and felt very sleepy-it had been a long day with the rehearsals and all of the school work that they still had to do on top of it, but that was OK- at east she would get a chance to sing again tomorrow-maybe even in front of the audience of guests. That was a little scary, but exciting-maybe even the blonde lady would be there, too. The happy thoughts swirled in her head as her eyes closed and sleep crept over her like a cozy blanket

Maxwell sat up in his bed, and drew a long, hard pull on his cigarette. He exhaled and felt a strange mixture of triumph and angst in the same breath. Tonight, he had dared to tread in sacred territory and lived to not only tell about it, but to relish his advances. For years he had fantasized about what it would be like to grasp the unobtainable, to lay hands upon a desire made flesh Almost all of his wants were granted this evening-enough of a taste to sate his appetite for the moment. He had dared to taste the forbidden fruit of the Protestant Knight; her mouth had been so warm, so sweet like fresh berries under the sun, her neck slender and the flesh tender as a ripe, slit peach, her frame was elegant, sleek as the tall stalks of wheat that surrounded the villa during the hot, summer months, and as for her breasts-ah, a smile of yearning crossed over his features as he wished that he had been able to have done more than just brush a few, short strokes over them. While they were a bit less fleshy than what he usually preferred, they were fetching-a perfect handful, round as blood oranges. Underneath all those suits and sever trappings, a feminine essence stirred.

It would have been, _interesting_, to have explored the soft curve of her thighs and more, delicate areas of her being , all that would come to fruition soon. He leaned back into his pillows and sighed- she had wonderfully long legs and he could not help but to imagine just how tight they would feel wrapped around his waist... While the physical properties were delectable to sample this evening, it was the gradual break-down of this woman that truly stirred the fire in his loins. She would be a magnificent _donna _once she was tamed , like a wild mare broken by the whip and the strap...of course, they could do _that_ to, if she wanted to try, but a good-old fashioned de-flowering was in order first before more exotic tastes could be explored. In spite of the delightful encounter, she had still rejected his full advances and the Bishop was in bed alone. Another puff of smoke drifted up into the air. While he craved the full conquest of his prize, it was this wanting, this waiting that made the reward all the sweeter.

In the silence of her boudoir , Sir Hellsing put on the last of her 'amour' for her battle to come. The silk evening dress was a rich, dark eggplant colour, with deep, plunging neckline and spaghetti straps. A satin bra pushed her small cleavage upwards, giving the illusion of a fuller bosom than what she possessed, while she donned the silk hose once more, but this time the Mark Pistol lay in the lace. She took a deep breath and prepared to exit before a voice echoed wildly in her head.

"_Where in Dis' sake are you going dressed like that??"_

Webly Mark Pistol -Type of small handgun used by England and the Indian Army right after WWII- a vintage gift from her cousin.

Hime- Japanese for "Princess". Yumiko has trouble pronouncing Hinekel's name, so the nick-name works well-she is also very fond of her fellow Sister-in-Christ (the two develop a sweet romance later on - sigh)


	23. Chapter 23

The Asphalt

Shadowy shapes twisted and melded to form the body of her servant, rising up rapidly from the floor. Alucard stared at his master with a mix of surprise and concern plastered across his face. Integra did not flinch.

"Why didn't you respond to me- I called for you for almost an hour!"

"I was tied up for a bit." she stated flatly. The vampire could feel the negative energy pulsing off her in sharp currents. By touching her arm all of the night's events were conveyed to him. He kneeled before her , and bowed his head low.

"Give the word." he whispered brutally. "Give me the slightest wish and I be glad to tear his flesh from the bone or carve your family's crest upon his corpse." His eyes darted up to meet the steely gaze of his master-they blazed like embers in a funeral pyre.

"No-this is personal, I wish to punish him myself."

"What, will you shoot him in his own bed and then pay for it with your own loss of freedom? Master, think this through- you've been to prison once before and it did not suit you. "

"And if you go and render him limb from limb, you won't fare much better-you're in the middle of a convention of demon hunters and Holy paladins- what fate awaits you?" For a moment, they both looked at each other knowing that both paths would lead to nothing but disaster. Frustrated, Integra sat down on the bed- she removed the pistol from her side, threw it down and ran her fingers roughly through her hair.

"You have no idea how much I want to-to-I..." her voice grew ragged and became chocked with sobs. The vampire attempted to put his arms around her when she flinched. Alucard noticed the bruises on her neck and chest, and fully sensed her fear and disgust of the Bishop.

"_Rapist filth..." he thought. __He had bedded dozens upon dozens of women, deflowered countless princesses and concubines, lovers and suitors- even the in the act of Prima Note, he never inflicted himself upon the partner-he never had to... but this piece of human waste had dared to go against his warnings and his master's wishes...his demise would be a joy. _He held her form against his tenderly; the silk felt cool and inviting under his fingertips, and her heart began to slow gradually. He averted his eyes from the ample display of bosom-she was more sensually dressed than he had ever seen, but he swallowed any of the sexual feelings building up in the pit of his heart. Integra pressed her face to his chest and allowed the tears to flow freely.

"In all the years I've known you, in all the time you lived under my roof , you have never forced your hand on me." she whispered.

"I 've never had to. Also, you're a damn good, shot." She smiled weakly and looked up into his eyes Fear, relief , anger, and intense sadness swum in her orbs. She always had to be a fortress of iron and ice, but here in his arms, she could be herself, no matter how weak or strong. The creature pecked the top of her head and soothed her as best he could. When calmness had settled back , Integra turned to face her servant. There was no time for the luxury of tears and self-pity; action was at hand.

"I propose we go a much more subtle route. " Alucard's interest peaked. "I'm thinking that we need to strike at his core-topple him from the inside out. Gain his trust, use the powers of persuasion, then be able to expose him for what he is to the entire congregation."

"And is this part of your tactics of '_ persuasion_' ?" he asked indicating the siren dress. Sir Hellsing nodded.

"But perhaps, we need to tone this down a bit, make him desire before his downfall." She parted and placed the long hair to cover her exposed flesh like a shawl. "After all, we want to make Holofernes suffer and want before he thinks he'll claim Judith. Making him _wait _will torment him..."

"_Trust me on that one- it's torment, alright..." the inner voice of the vampire piped in. _Integra raised an eyebrow . Her companion grinned.

"Sorry about that- the ego sometimes has a mind of its own..."

"Or the libido... " He stood before the woman and bowed.

"Just remember, if you are to be Judith-take his head cleanly, I do so hate to clean up a gory mess in another's household-feels quite rude." She extended her hand and he kissed it.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's a good , hard stroke to finish him off-you forget I'm equally as good with a blade." A bit of a sly grin crept up upon his features.

"Mmm, hard strokes, blades, quick finishes- can't we save foreplay for another time, my master?" Integra fought from smiling back. The creature vanished leaving the imprint of his kiss on the back of her hand. The dramatic exits were de jour, but still took her breath away...

The Merc Perfumery, Switzerland

Lightning streaked the skies and a harsh wind whipped through the air, making the landing of the planes rocky and unstable. The weather was turning nasty-thick, dark grey clouds billowed making viability murky, and the rain began to freeze, coating the ground with a slick coat of ice pellets. Captain Falks and his troops poured out of the planes, armed to the teeth and ready to break and enter. A few of the enlisted French soldiers were at the front in aid for translation. However ,the plant appeared to be already occupied- around the side were several helicopters and small planes emblazoned with the Vatican's symbols for the Iscariot Section. Doors and windows had been shattered and Falk halted his men's entrance.

"What the Hell goes on here??", he fumed,"We were not told that any other military personal were present!" A small group of figures came forwards-the soldiers readied their weapons, but when the intruders were revealed to be military priests and clergy from Iscariot, they backed off. The leader of the group, a tall, rail-thin priest with a wild mop of red hair and beard approached with his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

"Hold your fire!" Falk barked. The priest and three other men stepped closer.

"We're un-armed- just here for clean up." the redhead explained. There was the signs of a struggle on his clothes and his jacket was stained with a thick, foul substance that resembled puss or mucus-the other priests were in similar shape-one younger man had three, deep gashes across his chin and the beginnings of a black eye.

"We were not informed by our Chief of any other military presence here- what happened?" Falks inquired.

"Our section was informed of this problem about 48 hours ago- one group came into assist with the situation, while I am here with my men for clean up and rescue. I'm Father Russo, by the way." He saluted the Captain and his fellow men did the same. Falks returned a nod of respect.

"We are still required to enter the grounds and recover information."

"Understood- we will accompany you in-while all the all violent assailants have been either eliminated or restrained, we are still assessing the situation. All other causalities have been taken to the nearest hospital I cannot tell you just how shocked and disgusted we are by the findings." Falk's eyes went wide- usually there was enough tension between the rival armies to cut with an axe, but this group seemed willing to help and equally disturbed by the events.

"We will enter, but under the conditions of no forceful or violent tactics used on either side." The priest nodded and the group of men merged and entered.

Inside the plant was in shambles; windows and doors were smashed and the whole place still reeked of a horrible, herb-like scent that was sickly sweet that a few of the Hellsing soldiers gasped and fell ill.

"It stinks like Hell in here!," Chirstophe exclaimed to his fellow Frenchman.

"I've smelt worse-been in a Vietnam swamp once in summer..." Jean Paul bantered back. "Stop being such a pigeon and let's guide these Bulls down to the distillery." The men guided their troupe to a multiple layer stairwell. Here, the stench grew stronger, and several men lost their stomachs. The floor was slippery and covered in the same vile substance that coated the priests. As the group proceeded downwards, the sights grew as foul as the smell. There were dozens of Hospital tables covered in blood and greenish-yellow 'puss', straps and tools of restraint- medical equipment galore, but none of it had a healing quality . This was a place of experimentation, struggle, rot and pain. There were several bodies still covered in sheets , most of them quite small- child-sized as a matter of fact. Falks gulped hard-he was a seasoned man of duty, but the site of a small hand dangling off the steel table made his heart pause and his blood chill.

"When the first group came, the entire place was swarmed with... these things." Father Russo began" They were not 'un-dead' as you and your team are used to dealing with, but people, drugged, rotting people. Some were delusional, disorientated , while most of them attacked and attempted to harm my men. Many had to be destroyed and when death came upon them, their humanity returned- they screamed and cried, some calling for their parents and others just grasped up at you, wondering why you were doing this. Many were children-it was very _disturbing." _

"Who would do such a thing?" Falks asked. Father Russo shook his head.

"If I say, my life could be in danger, but, my heart is so heavy. " He pulled Falks over to the side of one of the huge perfumery vats. "All of the evidence points to our own organization- originally, there were mock documents to place the blame on the Hellsing Organization.", The priest pulled some bloodstained envelopes from the inside of his coat. While the man at first appeared fine, he had a massive bite-mark to his mid-section dripping with the pale ooze. He placed the documents in Falks hands and continued. "Whoever orchestrated this wanted to topple your little kingdom and claim everything for themselves- there are several copies of land layouts, the interior of the manor and all its properties in London and the Villa in Germany. There are even medical records doctored to look like you had done the experiments and acquired the children...from ...various..." Father Russo wobbled a bit and looked as if he may pass out. He gritted his teeth and slid down the side of the vat. Falks attempted to aid the man, who was slipping off into unconusouness.

"Father! Father!-Quick, someone, he's-" the man's hand shot up and slapped his chest.

"Shh, just get your information and get your men out- go back to your director and prevent Iscariot from becoming a man's twisted dream..." his voice began to fade. In a last effort of strength, the priest pulled out a small vial containing two pills. He quickly downed them and swallowed hard. Falks shook him and attempted to prevent the poisoning.

"Ha, rather die a believer in the old dream than serve as a pig in the new one-besides, they'd never let me live after what-I told–." his body fell with a thud, eyes rolling back in his head, last breathes shallow and growing softer until gone. Falks carefully hid the documents in his own pockets, closed the man's eyes, and muttered a small prayer.

"_Dear God, deliver us from evil-Amen..." _

Morning-Maximilian Villa

The morning's choir practice was going as smoothly as to be expected-ever since Sister Mariana's sudden disappearance, Sister Yumiko had to pick up the piano quickly and her skills were not as adept at music as she first thought. She stumbled over the notes of "Silent Night" and some of the children grew tired of the constant stop and start. Father Anderson stood by the side of the stage, casting the occasional stern, silencing glare to youngsters who seemed to be either growing fidgety or bored.

"_Dammit, why did ya have ta let yer quince get the best of ya again?" he silently cursed Maxwell." She was a damn good piano player and a good lass- once again ya had ta go screw things up!" At least he had no fear of Enrico attempting to bed the little nun presently playing- her berserker side would probably come out and castrate him rather than be claimed. At this point, he was hoping to God that he would make an attempt on the Protestant Knight and she would thrash him. _

Music faltered and the children groaned. Sister Yumiko huffed and rose.

"How about we all take a break, go to class for an hour, then pick up the pieces in the afternoon after lunch, OK?" she stated with a teacup smile-thin and ready to crack. Father Anderson sighed- it would all work out, if Sister didn't explode and he didn't strangle the Bishop...

In the comfort of his study, the Arch Bishop was busy signing off paperwork on some of the requests of the various guests presently visiting. One was a request for funding, while another was a pained cry of support for the Sisters of the Black Rose- a radical, Catholic group of nuns in the North of Ireland. Ugh- he had dealt with these women before and found them fanatical and aggravating.

"Couldn't they just be content to read to blind children, or something..." he muttered. He placed their statements at the bottom of his pile of the "TO DO" list. He was engrossed in his papers when the door opened slowly. He barely paid it any mind, ignoring the clicks of heels as they approached his desk. It was not until the shadow of his visitor fell across him that he looked up, and gasped.

He smelled her before he laid eyes on her- the light, intoxicating essence of powder and lavender, but this time laced with vanilla-soft, sultry, delectable. While her regular attire of white men's shirt and ascot were present, she was wearing a mere silver of a skirt that clung to her long, long legs like skin on an apple. Enrico gulped and fought to control his mind from wandering to rather _inappropriate_ places.

"Good morning, sir." Sir Hellsing stated, low and pleasant."May I have a word with you?" For a moment, his eyes swept over her, not so much in desire, but to see if she had concealed any weapons. She leaned in close, her hair cascading forwards, almost brushing against his face. "I would like to inform you that I have given consideration to your proposal. While I'm still finalizing the details in my head, I think that we should discuss this at length this afternoon, perhaps after the panel on Modern Alchemy-what do you think?" Maxwell could not believe what he was hearing-true, it sounded more like a business merger than a romantic proclamation, but still, this was progress! He put his pen down and stared at her,

"What has brought this great change of heart on, Sir Hellsing?" The woman inched closer and gingerly put her gloved hand on top of his.

"Let's just say both reason and my heart were quite shaken after the other night-"

"I never intended to harm you, it's just you make communication so difficult- " she silenced him with a finger.

"Perhaps, if we communicate calmly and privately, we can come to an arrangement we can both grow to favour." she stated. Integra offered him her hand and in a delicate stroke, the Arch Bishop pecked it. While he attempted a more affectionate kiss on her wrist, she slid it slowly out of his grasp.

"12:45-back here?" he asked.

"Agreed." She turned and tossed her full mane of blonde hair, leaving the man to follow her retreating form with his eyes. Maxwell's heart began to skip a bit and he picked up his fountainpen with a calming breath.

"Well, I'll be damned." he said with a smile

"_Not until I get through with you..." Integra hissed between her teeth on the opposite side of the door..._

Judith and Holofernes- A Biblical story involving a brave, Jewish widow who uses her feminine charms to seduce, then drug, and then behead the Persian army captain, Holofernes, who was threatening her village and people. Unlike Salome, who is seen as a seductrice for claiming the head of John the Baptist, Judith is seen as a hero, claiming the head of the dictator. This gory scene is a favourite depicted by such Old World masters as Carrivagio and a very special female artist that will be discussed later on...

Bulls- Short for John Bulls-slang term for an Englishman.

Quince-Irish slang for naughty -bits...Enrico lets his get the better of him all the time.


	24. Chapter 24

Control

While the night at the Villa passed with little knowledge of the battle and clean-up mission a mere border away, Hellsing Manor had been filled with late-night tactics, plans, discussions and a running three-way conversation between Lord Andrew, Captain Falks, and Father Tussi, the secondary leader in command for the Iscariot Section, currently present in the Merc Perfumery in Switzerland. The calls came through at about 3 A.M. as well as additional messages at 4:15 and 5:20- the last one woke up Meena Hellsing with a start; she had stayed with her husband the entire night in the Study, unable to shake the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Lord Andrew attempted to soothe her back to sleep on the couch, but it was an exercise in futility.

"I'll go to the kitchen and make you a pot of coffee." she stated with a yawn.

"But dear, I may have to leave for Switzerland at any moment -I" his words were cut off by a figure popping her head through the doorway.

"Sir! I have news from Captain Falks and our troops!," the vampire exclaimed. Lord Hellsing invited her in and she greeted the pair with a salute and then promptly handed him some notes.

"It appears that there are only two sources of the Zombie chemicals- one being located directly at the Maximilian Villa in Italy and the previous operation in Switzerland which has been completely contained by-get this- both our forces and the Iscariot Section!"

"I know that they were present almost 24 hours before we arrived. Why did they get so involved- if this is coming out of their own..."

"Apparently, this is some kind of idea gone terribly wrong- no one wants this to come to term." Seras explained."You also have full awareness of the documents about the house and the surrounding land of the Manor and how all the medical paperwork was forged in your cousin's name."

"Yes- cheeky bastards aren't they?"

"If these findings were submitted to the public, it would place all the blame on Sir Integra, making us look like a pack of child murders." Andrew skimmed though the notes and shook his head.

"Who would do such a thing?" Meena asked. Seras cocked an eyebrow.

"The Arch Bishop-his Holy Holiness- he needed blackmail for Miss Integra-after all, he has to have something heavy enough to hang over her head to push her to the alter."

"Cheeky bastards indeed. Miss Victoria, I will need you and Captain Bernadette to remain here while I prepare to contact Sir Hellsing and make plans whether I'm to go to Italy or to the remains of the factory. I'll also contact the old Maharajas just incase anything happens while I'm gone." Meena gave a surprised look to her spouse.

"The Maharajas-is that really necessary , dear?" The creature looked confused.

"Sir, who-or what-are the 'Maharajas'?" Lord Hellsing cast a devious glance.

"You know how your Captain has his Wild Geese? These were my comrades from the bad, old days...Ari owes me plenty of favours and I can't think of having a better one than some added back-up in case an army of zombies shows up."

Maximilian Villa- Later in the Day

Minutes seemed like hours as Maxwell paced in his Study-he had not been this nervous since he was a teenager. What was the little vixen plotting? Was this a genuine show of affection or some kind of trick? Having what he desired be so close at hand was an exhilarating, yet nerve-wracking experience. The door clicked and creaked open slowly . Instead of the face of his immortata, it was Sister Yumiko. She appeared unsettled and something bright and brittle shone in the back of her eyes.

"Bishop- can I please have a word with you?" she squeaked. The man impatiently glanced up at the clock- the face stated 12:38- why did everyone need his undivided attention five minutes before everything was to come right to his doorstep? Enrico cocked his eyebrow and listened to the little nun state her concerns about the upcoming concert- how was she going to pull of the event? Where in the world did Sister Mariana go off to? What did have to be her-couldn't they find anyone else more musically inclined? As the conversation continued, her voice sped up and the look on her face began to go from slightly upset to panicked. By the time Sister Yumiko had finished rambling, there was a subtle knock at the door. The crack reveled the lean profile of Sir Hellsing. The Arch Bishop patted the exasperated nun on the head, as if attempting to calm down a wound -up terrier.

"Sister-I know you want to voice your ideas, but perhaps after supper would be a better time to go over the concepts you have for the seasonal show-thank you." He practically pushed her out , ushering the Hellsing heir inside , shutting the door quickly. The Arch Bishop cast a small smile at her.

"Such a talkative sister-please excuse her." Integra was bundled in a thick coat, and showed a thin smile.

" Bishop Maxwell, perhaps you can grab a jacket and we can take a walk in the in garden while the rest of the company is at lunch."

"Marvelous idea."he replied. After his collar was buttoned, the pair made their way out into hallway, down to the front entrance, and into the sharp, chilly air. The path they chose curved to the left, veering past the icy gardens and carved, stone steps. Heels clicked, echoing over the ice. The quiet was tense; Integra looked down at her boots and then began to speak softly.

"I've given the idea quite an amount of thought. In order for my family to benefit, in addition to my own well being, I have considered your proposal." There was a beat of silence. Integra toyed with the fringe of her wool scarf.

"Are you agreeing to the marriage?" he asked. She sighed and nodded.

"With a courtship first, of course- I need to get acquainted with you better before the final ceremony and paperwork is signed. I want to know what your expectations will be, how we will interact with each other and our families, and most importantly, how will this affect my organization."

"That is all very understandable, Sir Hellsing. I agree, it's a good idea to get to know each other, on a more _personal _manner." He went to slip his arm into hers when she side-stepped and glared at him.

"I'm still very upset at you from the other night-I want to be able to trust you, but I'm having a hard time believing that you want anything more than my body-not my companionship, nor anything more emotional." For a moment, the Arch Bishop looked ashamed and his face dropped.

"Madame, I truly want to prove my affections for you. I will be glad to take my time and do whatever it takes to make you understand that." He went to hold her hand , when Integra gently brushed it away.

"For the duration of our pre-marital relationship, I think it would be best to keep such physical intimacies to a minim-at least for the time being." A hopeful gleam came over the Bishop.

" I would prefer your company to be close-when you are ready, of course." The two rounded the corner , traveling further from the main villa. The afternoon sun broke through dense clouds, casting a pale light over the grey atmosphere The pair continued their formal stroll towards the further outskirts of the Manor.

" I would like to show you something you may find interesting." Enrico stated, leading Integra over to an elaborate fountain. While the water was frozen solid inside, the stone sculptures were breath-taking; an angel with wide wings spread held up her right arm triumphantly, with long robes fluttering out in an invisible breeze. Her face was soft and serene - a gentle smile playing across her lips. A pair of leopard-like animals flanked her sides, glaring ferociously, teeth bared and scaley backs arched in a defensive stance. While time had made its mark on the marble-cracks and pale stains documenting the passage of the centuries, it was an impressive work of art.

"It's beautiful." Sir Hellsing commented. The Arch Bishop gestured to the stone damsel and her guardians.

"The angel is 'Virtue', while the monsters around her are Painters- sort of like panthers, but with dragon-like traits as well-here, look at their tails!. They represent bravery-to stand up for your beliefs in the face of turmoil or pressure. I feel such a piece is as relevant today as it was when first carved, hundreds of years ago."

"Human nature changes little over time." Integra stated.

"Around April, in _primavera , _there are water-lilies in the pond and they bloom open, making her look even more lovely- she becomes a soft lady in the light of Spring, as if all the hardness around her melts away. " Maxwell turned to the woman at his side. "Perhaps, there is a soft, soft _donna_ under the concrete of your heart, too, Sir Hellsing." Integra flushed-she took compliments poorly, no matter who the benefactor was; she blushed not out of modesty , but felt uneasy with all the attention being showered upon her at the moment.

"It's getting cold-I want to go back to the Villa." He nodded.

"Of course, my dear." As they traveled towards the homestead, Sir Hellsing threw a backwards glance to the angel and her companions- a thought crossed her mind.

" _Stay strong my sister- let your beasts keep the wolves at bay and never thaw your heart out for the likes of a man such as this one..."_

Elsewhere-Hellsing Manor-Captain's Quarters

If his smile was any wider, it would fall right off his face- Pip could not stop grinning like a drunken idiot, though he was perfectly, perfectly sober. Lord Andrew was leaving- departing, bounding on over to the hills of Italy, or Switzerland, or both. He would have peace, quiet and the chance to finally get some quality alone time with his mignonette. Of course, he would remain professional- his mind sharp, focused, set on various defense techniques, and his entire staff was ready to stand and protect the homestead. The house would be his temporary castle filled with the women of Hellsing to be upheld and honoured by him and his Wild Geese- it felt quite chivalrous to be in charge of the well-being of these fine ladies.( His little vampire could handle herself very well, but it was a bit nice to feel like a knight in shining armor, able to defend the matron and her daughter-in-law. ) Of course, Walter was still going to be present , ever watchful and sure to report any of his mis-doings to the family, 'Papa', and Boss-Lady upon their return, but perhaps, he could be bribed with some Christmas brandy...the years had made the butler a lightweight when it came to strong liquor and certainly what he wasn't aware of couldn't hurt him...

For a moment, the Frenchman went over to his dresser and fingered a small, velvet box on the tabletop- while not an engagement ring yet, it was a token of love none the less; he slowly opened the little cube and admired the white-gold cross with a small rose in the center. The necklace was subtle, and easy to wear under her military fatigues and uniforms, yet pretty enough to reveal on her off days . It was also almost identical to the tattoo she sported on her hip, the one she had gotten when she turned 19 and still mortal.

Pip could not help but to recall the day she had shown him the ink with a bit of a mix of love and lust stirring up in his heart; they were relaxing in her room, watching a movie, or attempting to play some cards, when she shifted on the couch, her pyjama pants rode low, revealing the beginnings of what appeared to be a vine on the arch of her right hip. He teased and tormented her until she gave in and displayed the piece- a large, Celtic Cross, heavy with green leaves and thorny vines and in the center, a rich, red, rose bloomed.

"_Remember, it's our secret." she had told him with a wink. It was times like this that he felt so special to her, so close- not to mention, he hoped that he would get a chance to see the rest of her soon- the generous swell of her hips and shapely thighs, the soft smooth line of her_- his less-than-pure thoughts were cut short by the calling of his name. He tucked the gift away for safe keeping and answered the voice- male and very demanding. Private Lyons, a young enlisted solider hovered outside his hallway.

"Captain, Lord Hellsing wants you in his study immediately!"

"What for?" Pip asked.

"I believe he needs you for further translation- more documents have come in from Haiti." Pip sighed- as much as all these Limey bastards joked about him and his men, it appears that he was more valuable than they cared to admit- his work was never done.

Elsewhere- The Guest Bedrooms

All of the Baron's appetites had been satisfied for the time being; the finest sweets and chocolates were dished out for the taking, rich, fine Port wine had been spilt and drunk in his honour, and some of the smoothest cigars in Europe had been offered up to please the fickle loa. A particularly special treat had been brought into the Crossroad Man's domain, but _she _would have to be shared. Sister Mariana lay gagged and bound on the couch, clad in a pretty costume of lace and ruffles-and not much else. She had been out cold for quite a few hours-after all, Angelique liked a little noise during her play sessions, but too much screaming just left her irritated...this is where the chloroform came in quite handy. Jacques Le Chat sat cross-legged on the floor while his wife sipped up the last of the ruby Port.

"So, the Baron had left us for now, when will he return, Cherie?" she asked. The man cast up a weary glance at his mate.

"Hopefully not until tomorrow- Papa is growing hungrier and hungrier each day- I am weak and need some time to have my own body back." Gently, she guided him up and into the warm embrace of her arms.

"I'm here to be your strength, I'm always with you." she whispered. The pair kissed lightly and held each other for a beat longer.

"What of the vampire-have you seen him?' Angelique, shook her head.

"The next time I do, I'll be sure the seal him away good and proper. He may be powerful, but right now, he's got that woman and the Bishop to contend with-the situation is occupying his mind and leaving his emotions raw-we may be able to use that to our advantage."

Meanwhile...

After the tour of the grounds, Sir Integra excused herself and made her way back to the convention, but not without promising supper to the Arch Bishop first.

"I'll expect you at six sharp-don't be late, or I'll come find you." he playfully threatened. Integra was grateful to disappear into the safety of the crowd of convention-goers. A thought pulled at her mind, forming into a mental conversation with Alucard.

"_So how goes the grand scheme-did he take the bait?" _

"_So far, so good- he's very receptive to the idea of a'courtship', and this means if he's distracted, you have more time to dismantle the bomb ticking under our noses." _

"_Have you received any news from London?"_

"_Yes- the plant was destroyed about a day ago and the Iscariots was called in to quarantine and contain the mess."_

"_Were you aware that all of the documents for the chemicals as well as the adoption records were forged in your name to blame you, my master, and the Hellsing Organization?" Integra was outraged. _

_ "_Bloody Hell!-I.." she cursed aloud. She caught herself before any more could slip out- a few close strangers cast a strange look at her, but she merely smiled and proceeded to walk near a less- condensed area to complete the exchange.

"_Who's got possession of all the paperwork as of now?'_

"_Your cousin and troops have the files-there were also multiple deeds, documents, and disclosures about the Main Manor and the smaller homestead in Germany-apparently, Maxwell wants the whole cake." _

"_The sot won't get a crumb from us- I will not lie down and surrender."_

"_Ah, but you may have to lie down in order to conquer him..."_

"_Hopefully it won't have to go as far as that-are you trying to push me into the arms of another man?" _

"_Certainly not- and besides, I would hardly consider him 'a man' to begin with." _

"_Where are you now?"_

"_Just came out of the closet." _

"_Really , so nice of you to inform me of your personal life."_

"_Master, there was an alter set up in the linen closet- port wine and roses." _For a moment Integra's stomach lurched- so that was the swill that Maxwell had used on her a few nights ago- uggh! The mental drain of the conversation was onsetting a headache, so she wished to end the dialogue and move on to the next stage of attack.

"_What do you propose we do now?" she inquired._

"_I have a plan- but you're going to have to trust me. Before you meet with him for supper- go up to your room-I have your weapons laid out for you."_

" _Bullets, or blades?" _There was a pause.

"_Black lace._"

Primavera-The first of Spring.


	25. Chapter 25

Confinement

While she appeared cool and collected, Integra's heart was pounding. As she zipped up the back of the inky, lace evening- blouse, she felt similar to an actor preparing for a role. Tonight, she was no longer Integra Windgates Fairbrook Hellsing, enraged military director, but thrilled and loving 'fiancee' willing to tolerate the unwanted affections of her rival. Her stomach felt tight, like a billiard ball lodged into the corner pocket-there was nowhere to go except down the hole. For a moment, the woman admired her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, clad in a midnight shirt with a plunging v-neckline, trimmed in scalloped lace. Her treasured, sterling cross hung against the copper of her skin, gleaming with a life of its own. While they were a bit snug, she had managed to salvage the velvet slacks from the laundry- they had shrunk a little in the dryer, but with the fact that the rest of her suits and pants were still missing in action, Sir Hellsing was grateful to have a few remaining pairs drifting in and out of her possession.(After the skirt fiasco of their last meal together, she would not give the Bishop another obvious opening for his amorous intentions.) The entire ensemble made her look quite attractive, yet she felt naked without gloves and with so much flesh showing around her neck and chest.

"_You look lovely." A silky voice cooed. _

"_Thank you- I feel horrid.". . she replied. _Before she could continue her comments, a pair of hands materialized around her waist , followed by the rest of her servant Strong arms wrapped firmly around her form, giving a protective squeeze. For a moment, she stayed in the embrace, but her mind wandered to the inevitable meeting.

"Why me? ," Integra asked quietly." Of all the women in his life, why must I be the chosen one?"

"Because, you are_ you_-he's never met with anyone like you-the one that can never be tamed or taken-that's why he yearns to break you so badly." Alucard replied.

"Break me- what am I , a Yorkshire Mare?" The vampire chuckled darkly.

"You are a remarkable creature -a tigress. I wonder if you will claw or kiss me at times."

"You appear to want both." The creature growled in agreement and tightened the grip, causing Integra to gasp .

"Please, not now, I'm in no mood for games-" he began to breath words in her ear- an ancient language, yet she understood every syllable as it melted into her.

"Never have I met anyone who could command me as you do- I have held court with Kings and Kaliefs, conversed with Warlords and Warriors- they pale in comparison to you- my angel in armor." He pushed the thick mane of hair away from her shoulder, and swiftly brushed kisses across the collarbone. She protested, and he silenced her with his mouth. The woman pushed him off, irritated .

"Alucard- not now." she exclaimed. "My mind is on the point of murder and I cannot feel anything but the urge to maim something."

"Sex and death can be just a hair's breath away from each other..." he whispered hotly. "Will you be ready to meet your Bishop with amore in your eyes? Are you able to play the farce and win his heart over while plotting his demise in your arms?" Integra huffed.

" I would rather cuddle a pig." Her vampire smirked, and poised a finger under her chin.

"You are so close to your enemy's weakness, and yet, you don't even realize it. Do you fully understand what power you possess over him?."he asked, voice turning into honey and heat. " You could topple kingdoms with your eyes, devastate the Vatican with your lips, or boil the blood of Cardinals between your thighs..." Red poppies bloomed in her cheeks, turning the bronze scarlet. A single nail traced down her throat and fingered her flesh. Integra half-closed her eyes and savored the sensation of his touch-it was electric, sending icy chills up and down her spine. It was as if he was trying to conduct some of that sensual energy deep into her core. "So many, many ways to lead him down the path to his own ruin. Woo him, make his will grow weak Play into his hungers, and build up his appetite-feed the beast that lurks in his heart and stroke the fire in his loins. Betray that hypocritical bastard with a kiss." he purred." Be Judas in mesh and lace." The finger trailed lower and settled on the silver talisman, pushing the pendant deeper into the valley of her breasts . The creature's flesh sizzled lightly upon contact with the holy metal, but the woman soothed it, licking the injured digit, the velvet of her tongue warm and comforting.

"I will be thinking of you tonight... ", she whispered. Sir Hellsing pressed his palm to her mouth and glided her lips over the smooth, white curve of his wrist. The dull thud of the clock chime called the woman to supper, reverberating in her skull like a gong. She closed her eyes for a moment and paused - when she opened them, Alucard was gone, leaving the faint scent of earth and musk behind like an apparition.

Elsewhere- The Conservatory, Maximilian Villa

"The first Noel, the Angels did say, unto certain poor shepards in fields as they lay..." the children sang. While perhaps not as melodious as when they first began, their voices were pleasant and their eyes bright. After a short venting session followed by a good cry and a sound nap, Sister Yumiko was able to gain some much needed practice and pressed onwards. Christmas was rapidly approaching and the choir was stumbling towards greatness, if they could just survive the next, few days... Father Anderson watched from the audience with a light smile on his features as he saw the fruits of everyone's labours grow and start to blossom. His fellow sister indeed could play, though it lacked the passion and professionalism of the previous maestro. Ah yes, poor Mariana- his thoughts and prayers drifted out over her, wondering if she had returned home after all, or was she actually spending the remainder of the winter in the estate in Spain- Maxwell was very good at keeping his affairs subtle, at least to the outside world.

If Anderson had been a conniving man, he could have demanded millions of dollars in exchange for certain 'information'- a pricey gag to keep the Vatican from learning about the numerous nuns, countless courtesans and endless erotic encounters. However, much like a hopeful uncle who wishes not to expose a wicked nephew to his father, the priest kept his mouth shut. He prayed for the young man to end his debauching and return to focusing his duties and honour toward Section XIII. Perhaps, the Bishop would finally see the error of his ways and rejoice once more in a renewed celibacy, or atone for his carnality through penance and charity. Anderson sighed- these were foolish, yet well-meaning wishes. Maxwell's nature had only worsened with his political rise, and showed no signs of stopping. Silently, he cast a string of prayers out to the little nun, and wished her well.

"_God be with ya," he thought,"And a safe way home."_

Elsewhere-

"Now, now, _mon petite fleur, _Angelique chided,"We can't have you squirming around all day can we? You'll soil your dress..." The girl struggled against her bindings, shredding the delicate skin of her wrists against the coarse ropes. Flesh began to tear, streaking claret against the creme lace of her peignoir . The witch brushed eager fingers against the fine arch of her jaw, stroking the muscles of her neck before fondling the firm flesh of her bosom. Mariana whimpered. Button after button popped, revealing decolletage decorated with bites and bruises blossoming blue-violet and magenta.

"Shhh , poor thing- don't worry, I won't share you with anyone else- you're all mine, mine...mine." Her lips melted into Mariana's and sharp teeth tore at her, as if devouring a sugary treat, a bon-bon of flesh and blood. As she undressed and readied herself for another round of pleasure and pain, Angelique cast a loving glance at the girl, whose eyes deadened with each session. She was a lovely gift from the Arch Bishop and would be a nice match for the other_ belle fleur _currently at home in Martinique. How cute- they would be like a pair of matching book-ends, one for her and one for Jacques! For a moment, she thought about the little, blonde vampire who had slipped through her grasp- such a pity, but one can't have all the sweets in the store, now can they? Her eyes fell upon the candy-pink of her bruises and the icing-white of her breasts.

"_Delicious, absolutely delicious."_, _was all she could think of as she dove into warm flesh. _

Hellsing Manor- The Dungeons

She smelled delicious, absolutely, positively delicious.She always smelled like vanilla cream, champagne and strawberries, or some other tempting treat that he was never allowed to sample. Bottle after bottle of these syrupy scents lined her vanity table and the tiled wall of her shower. They engulfed every inch of her, scenting her entire being , making him drool over her on particularly bad nights. Tonight was one of those ; Lord Hellsing and a few additional men were heading off to Switzerland, the translations had been sent, plans gone over, and back -up requested. Here they were now, after all the hustle and hub-bub with time on their hands- it was a game of hurry-up-and-wait unfolding. Seras had retired to her room awaiting orders that never materialized and Pip had offered to be company in here with her. The essence of brown sugar and caramel surrounded her and the vampire looked anxious perched on the couch, still dressed in her military uniform, chewing on her bottom lip in frustration. Short skirt, pouting lips and the whiff of sugar and spice and everything nice coming off her neck. It was enough to drive a young man mad.

"Vic," the Captain asked." Do you think that we should just get on with the night and wait until the morning, see if any plans of action roll down from the top for tomorrow?" She did not answer him, but seemed lost in her own thoughts. He inched closer.

"Um, sweetie, do you need anything- any more translating, need to re-stock the Old Firecracker with ammo, or want me to grab a few B Positive packs? " She shook her head.

"No- I'm not hungry. Ohhhh, I hate when all you can do is wait around- it makes me feel so useless!" she wined. Gingerly, the Frenchman slid his arm over her shoulders and cuddled up to her a bit.

"You know," he whispered suggestively,"We really haven't had any private time to ourselves lately- we've been together day and night, but it's mainly been for work, perhaps we should take advantage of this lull while we have it..." Seras turned and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What? Nothing too heavy- I promise. I have been tre bon all week- a true gentleman." he said. Her brow arched higher. "Come on, honey, it was funny-certainly you can take the joke, yes?"

"Slapping my bum in public is not humourous- it makes me look really bad in front of the troops."

"How 'bout we only do that in private from now on?" He cast his most charming grin at her and the vampire fought a smile of her own from surfacing. The Captain began to nuzzle the side of her neck and brushed his nose against her ear, tickling her slightly. Seras started to giggle and swatted playfully at him.

"Besides, I think you wear this bon-bon scent just to torture me- so mean, you never let me have a taste." He pecked her neck and the ice between them broke. She kissed him back and the two began to embrace.

"Bijou fauve?" he asked. She rubbed her nose to his.

"Oui." she replied. His grip progressed to a grope.

"Bijou fauve-au naturel? " Seras nipped his upper lip.

"Don't push your luck, Cochon."

Maximilian Villa, The East Wing in the Private Study

While the room had originally been a library and private study, Enrico had refurnished it to be a quiet meeting room for guests and his extra-curricular affairs alike. The room flowed with a soft sensuality; the lights had been turned down low enough to compliment the few candles scattered around the place, adding a glow to the walls with their incandescence. A light supper had been spread out with cold antipasto, a tureen of soup, and an overflowing basket of piping hot, flaky bread. A pair of crystal flutes were present like golden towers, filled to the brim with pale, yellow Chardonnay. While he did not particularly like to promote such a habit, there was a small box of Cuban cigars off to the far left of the table to accompany the coffee and conversation for later. After all, one must make some small allowances from time to time, especially for one's betrothed.

Maxwell sat back in his chair and thought of the situation at hand. His mind was still dealing with the possibility that this could indeed be a trap, a ploy. He could be exposed or even assassinated , though the last thought was a bit preposterous. While she threatened, ranted, and raved, the Protestant Knight would not take the life of another human. He knew the chink in her amour, the flaw in her fury. "Thou shall not kill"- the commandment was breeched during warfare and in dealings with those_ beasts_ of hers, but as for herself, she did not have it in her heart to take the life of another human being. She had a noble core, an honourable bearing to her soul. Maxwell knew that he himself was a bit too cowardly to commit murder, and besides, when one had an army of dozens upon dozens of willing servants, one did not have to bloody one's hands with such dirty tasks- that was an advantage of working with Iscariot, someone else had the determination to complete what he could not. He picked up the glass and took a sip of the wine-it was light and had a fruity after-taste, like late September apples .

While red vino would have been preferable, he felt that it would be a much more acceptable beverage to serve after the Port. Tonight, he needed no love potion; his intended would be arriving and acting out of her own accord. While her motives were still unclear, she would be coming over , conversing, and hopefully cooing with him for the remainder of the night. The door broached slowly and the Arch Bishop did not even have to guess the identity.

"Come in, Miss Hellsing." he said. Integra entered quietly. There was still the strong stride in her walk and a regal bearing in her shoulders, but she exuded something so graceful, so confidant, that it was as if a cat stole into the room. She wore her hair down and much to the Bishop's surprise, her neck was exposed , the shine of her cross attracting his attention instantly, the light drawing his focus to the long curve of her throat and the ample display of bosom. Shadows played across her warm, burnished skin and a hint of a grin arched her lips. She took a seat across from him and folded her hands on her lap.

"Good evening, " Enrico stated.

"And a good evening to you, Maxwell." she countered. Her demeanor was still formal, but less stiff, and the Arch Bishop could have sworn that her eyes, usually sapphire -sharp appeared softer than their usual consistency.

"Shall we speak of business or pleasure first?",she asked. Her counterpart took a long sip of his wine and placed the glass down.

"Supper first, then we shall discuss our personal matters, perhaps over a nice cup of coffee? "

"That sounds lovely, _un marido_." Integra replied. The Spanish endearment pleased him greatly, and he took another draw at his glass . He made a modest toast, and his companion raised her cup to his.

"To a night of new beginnings-"

Old Firecracker- Pip's term of endearment for Seras' Harkonen Canon.

Light French Naughtiness- A bit of rough slang was used for this one, so bear with me...High School French memories are few and far between...

Translation

P: Can we kiss wildly (make out)?

S- Yes.

P:Can we do it sans clothes?

S: You're pushing your luck, Pig (In French, English or Swahili, the answer's always no. Better luck next time, Captain! )

Marido- Hubby, cute term for husband. Enrico has some Spanish in him, so he will throw both Italian and Spanish into the conversations.


	26. Chapter 26

Passover

The winter wind whipped through the bony boughs of the trees and a thin, frozen rain began to splatter the windowpanes. Maxwell had sparked a small blaze in the fireplace and joined his companion on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee, and a small bowl of lump sugar. So far, the supper had been pleasant- the meal filling, conversation and wine light. Though he kept a small distance from her throughout the evening, it appeared that the woman was gradually closing the physical gap between the two. She settled in to his left, and pushing a plush pillow to her back. Silence was gently broken; they spoke of their various duties, their families, or lack thereof, and of the convention.

"The other day, I was able to have a few words with the priest from Georgia." he stated. Integra took a sip of her drink.

"He seemed rather pleasant."

"Indeed, in fact, his whole family was- Father Sasha brought his wife and two daughters along with him." Sir Hellsing placed a cube of sugar in her coffee.

"The Russian Orthodox and the Greeks are able to marry, the same goes for the Protestant vicars and ministers, the Rabbis and even some of the Buddhist monks take on matrimony- it still seems odd that in this day and age that the Catholic Church looks down upon such unions for its members."she stated. The Arch Bishop huffed for a moment and set down his cup.

"The Church has its own reasons. Usually, it is quite difficult to serve two masters- personal duty pulls at pious needs. I have known several priests, bishops, and even cardinals care for their families and adhere to their duties quite well, though." His eyes set upon her, attempting to read her emotions and decipher where the conversation was leading to. "After all, did you not claim to never wish to marry because it would interfere with the running of your organization?"

"True , very true. That, I do believe, we have to discuss in further detail. I have been delegating more power to my cousin, Andrew, but the main decisions and the overseeing of the budget, military operations, and all records fall upon my shoulders. I prefer to keep our businesses separate."

"Of course, though, I would be happy to aid you in the funding."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."

" Do you want to continue working full time after the children are born?" Integra laughed softly.

"My, my, you seem so eager for decedents. And just how soon would these fictional children come into the picture?"

"I was hoping for a family in the next two years- enough time for us to travel freely and settle ourselves into each other before starting domestic affairs."

"Domestic affairs- you sound like you are forever talking business. The answer is that I will continue to run _my _business as I see fit, and _we_ will raise _our_ family as best as we both can, Maxwell " It was the fourth time she had actually used his surname during the course of the night. While it was not said in the intimate whisper that he desired, nor did she use his first name just yet, it was an improvement over her usual icy tone. He inched closer.

"Contrary to what you may think of me, I do believe that we would make excellent parents." Integra cocked an eyebrow and leaned into him slightly, the russet gleam of the fire catching the cross at her throat.

"Really-pray tell."

"Both of us are intelligent, cultured, well-organized, good disciplinarians, and I think that they would be very attractive creatures- like their mother." The Bishop smiled on the last comment, and Sir Hellsing fought the urge to choke up her café. "Not to mention caring- you do have a nurture's touch under all your iron- Father Anderson told me how you helped that little girl from the choir the other day."

"You would have done the same, I'm sure." Silently, Integra doubted her own words there-after all, if it meant Enrico could have her body and soul, he would have been glad to cut the child down in a heartbeat.

"_Remember, thoughts like that to yourself, even if they are true... you are a pleasant and sweet girl tonight, even if you do want to strangle him right about now..." her inner-voice proclaimed. Damned inner voice._

"While I'm not so good at conducting myself in a large group of them, I do very well with children on an individual basis- tell me, do you have any nieces or nephews yet?"

"No. While I'm not sure if Andrew and his wife wish to start a family any time in the near future, I will be happy to be an aunt if they decide to become parents. Hopefully, Edward won't even be thinking about fatherhood until many years from now. Andrew's a fine, fine man and while I still don't know her as well as I would like to, Meena is a good woman and an accomplished musician ."

"A concert pianist, yes?" The Arch Bishop inquired.

"Yes." The conversation ceased and for a few beats, the pair sipped their beverages and listened to the embers crackle and pop. Flames rose then simmered down into their bed of wood and stone. The burnt wood smelled rich and heavy, with the accompanying essences of smooth coffee and the irresistible lavender-vanilla combination. Enrico studied her for a moment- the sharp line of her profile, the outline of her figure clad in lace and velvet against the rich green tapestry, and her hair glowing gold with the energy of the blaze.

Her fingers, long and tapered, sat on the edge of the china. It was so odd to see them un-clothed; usually so much of her was covered, but tonight, it was as if all of her secrets were being physically bared for him to see. While the display of graceful throat and cleavage was lovely, it was her hands that fascinated him. Some of the fingertips were calloused and scared, the nails short, clean, and manicured. A thread-thin line of raised, scar tissue alighted the two knuckles across her middle and ring finger on her left hand, and the pinky appeared a bit off, tilted away a little from the rest of the fingers. The right hand was flawless, and a silver insignia banded her ring finger. Integra caught him inspecting the heirloom .

"It was my father's ring, upon his passing it was given to me-it's been in my family for almost two centuries, even before Abraham settled in England." She held it up to the light and the silver glowed orange in the dying coals. Maxwell squinted and read the fine, detailed writing etched into the metal.

"The inscription's German- it says,'God is with us'. " Integra smirked.

"Did you think that HE only works well with the Vatican?" Enrico smiled slightly and ran his fingers lightly over the other hand, tracing the ancient injury with his pointer. At first, Integra wanted to yank her hand away, but instead let him linger on top of her for a moment.

"What happened to you?" She raised it up and rotated it slightly, displaying the marks for him to see.

"I broke it when I was nineteen, punched right through a plated, glass window-nearly severed these two fingers off. Let's just say I let my temper get the better of me..." The man chuckled lightly.

"Perhaps, it's your father that protects and guides your right hand. Were you close to him?"

"Yes... He was a decent, noble man. Always working, always busy with the organization, but loving, very loving. " Enrico toyed with his cup.

"I speak to mine a few times a year- for close to a decade, we had no contact- a few letters here and there, funds- of course, but no real, human contact. We have grown a bit more amicable as the years have passed-my angst ran out as I assumed more responsibilities here."

"What of your mother?" Maxwell turned from her eyes.

"I care not to speak to my mother or step-mother, I have little use for either of them." Sir Hellsing could sense that she touched on a raw nerve.

"I see. I'm sorry."

"Don't be- you don't know my history, my life's past. All I can ask you is to be a part of my future." Deep sea-water eyes gazed up into hers, a moment of connection. Integra cleared her voice and placed her cup down.

"I must be leaving, it's getting late and I want to go back to my room." She began to rise, when her companion did the same.

"I would ask you to stay with me, but I can see that you're not yet comfortable, perhaps, another night?" His voice raised with hope.

"Fine." Gently, he took hold of her hand and pecked it. In spite of her own personal war raging behind her heart, Sir Hellsing let the back of her hand linger on his lips. Her hand then slipped out from his grasp and stroked the side of his own, feminine fingers caressing and slipping through the spaces of digits. While completely chaste, it was still as if she was stroking a fire, stirring up cinders of want and need; her nails brushed against the thin skin, causing the Bishop to pull in a little breath. She smiled into the face of her advisory, and quickly brushed her lips against the meat of his palm. The action was so sudden that the man did not know how to respond; when he went to reach for her, she turned and was already a pace or two ahead.

"I will see you tomorrow .," she stated in her exit. She left him to smolder with the remains of the fireplace.

Once outside, Integra made her way quickly down the hall, back towards the safety f her own room. She rubbed her mouth few times and attempted to not imagine what dark, sticky thoughts the Arch Bishop would be having right about now.

"_He definitely wanted you to suck on his fingers." a small voice proclaimed inside her mind. _She heard the scurrying of tiny feet and looked down- a black rat with multiple, ruby eyes glanced up at her from the shadows-one of Alucard's familiars. While he usually preferred the centipede for more subtle observations, this rodent form was becoming one of his favourites, used on a regular basis. "_He would have gladly dipped his hand in the sugar bowl if you would have licked it off." _

"Hush." she snipped.

"_It wouldn't have stopped there, oh no, he would have wanted you to move on to his chest and belly and other more... sensitive areas." _

"_Lord, stop it, I don not want to even think what that man wants, nor do I care. I'm doing what needs to be done in order for you to undermine the operation at hand, not to disgust me with his personal filth!" A shrill laugh came from the creature._

"_Fear not, master, I'm out hunting as we speak- this is just a mere speck of me, ready to assist you at any time. And by the way, you look lovely with rage burning in your eyes... perhaps when you get back, I should tell you what else he's doing to get you nice and riled up for our night together..." _ Integra fumed and quickened her step.

"_I swear, I'm having Walter get a cat when we get back home!"_

Elsewhere- During the In-Between...

Andrew glanced down at the screen of his laptop- his eyes skimmed the report and he gulped as he saw the number of children used in the experiments- 643. These children were 'adopted', given the false hope of a family, love and a new life only to have it come to an end in a way that no one could have predicated. He released a heavy sigh and rested his head back against the head cushion of his seat. The plane hummed along through dense clouds and he could hear the metallic patter of rain bouncing off the steel. The last time he had been to Switzerland was for a Doctors Without Borders benefit with his wife almost two years ago- this trip would not be as pleasant. Lord Hellsing glanced at his watch- they would be touching down soon and the real work would commence. He hoped that Captain Rumianni would be arriving on time- while he felt at ease with the remaining troops, Seras, and the Wild Geese as domestic defense, there was something comforting about having extra help aboard just in case an incident was to happen in his absence. Besides, nothing beats the tactics of a mad man, and Ari was about as looney as they get...

Elsewhere, Hellsing Manor-

She let out the most adorable, little squeak as he brushed her neck with kisses. The pair were tangled up in each other on the couch resembling half-wrapped Christmas presents; a shirt lay in a crumpled pile, while a thick belt snaked around it, and two pairs of boots lay on the floor as Miss Victoria's military uniform slowly came undone.

"Ohh, you still got clothes on underneath..." the Captain complained as he peeled his sweetheart's top away-instead of a satin brassier or the see-through bra he was silently hoping for , she wore a simple, covering camisole. His fingers started for the lacy straps, when Seras pushed his hand to the side.

"Be good." she warned with a smile. He nuzzled her cheek.

"I am- besides, I've got my shirt off-you should do the same, much too hot in here." He continued to peck and cuddle her, hands attempting to slip up the sides of her curves.

"Ah, stop that-it tickles!" she squealed. The little vampire laughed, revealing full teeth. Her tormentor persisted until she began to do the same, attacking his bared ribs, digging her fingers into his most delicate spots.

"Hey, no fair! I got shot there back in '99! Nooo!" The pair nearly rolled off and onto the floor. The teasing escalated and with a final push, the Frenchman came crashing down with the fledgling on top, her ample bosom pushed up into his chin. Pip's grin was broad and resembled a very, naughty child's. He savoured her sweet, candied perfume and thought of steaming caramel and whipped cream.

"I could get really used to this..." he breathed. Seras shifted her weight lower to remove herself from the risque pose and gazed into his eyes.

"My face is up here..."she stated. He flashed a mock-innocent smile. She tapped his nose playfully. "You can be very trying at times, mister." Strong arms wrapped around her waist, thumbs rubbing slowly in the small of her back.

"I know...", he replied, increasing his pressure on her skin.

"But completely worth it." She patted his cheek and then kissed him. Their affection deepened and she ran her fingers through his smooth hair, breathing in its lush scent and the deep, musky tone of his being. She traced her fingertip across the thick line of scar tattooing his left shoulder and felt the agitated pulse of blood rapidly pounding under the canvas of muscle and skin. Her mouth was warm and inviting and the Captain had gotten accustomed to his tongue navigating around the sharp edges of her fangs- the first time he had kissed her passionately, he pulled away with a mouth full of blood. By now, he had gotten comfortable with dealing with her unique physique and could not imagine kissing anyone else for the rest of his life. The pair were quite lost in each other's embrace when a sharp knock came at the door. They ignored it, continuing to merge and coo and delve into each other's arms. The door creaked open slowly.

"Darling, I think someone's coming.." she stated . Her consort paid no mind and licked her throat.

"Give me about twenty minutes and we both can-" his lusty comment was cut off by the shadow of a man standing over them. It was on his blind side and his girl's hair was covering his good eye. Crap! Was it her master?!

"I swear to God I didn't do anything-she's still a virg-" he cut off his frantic rambling when he saw that it was not the head vampire ready to disembowel him, but a short, stocky Indian man with a huge, handlebar moustache, a long, olive , military-looking coat and an impish smile plastered across his face, making his dark eyes twinkle.

"My dear friends, please pay no mind to me, I was only looking for this Captain who has been appointed to guard the manor- I hear he is a fierce solider with a noble heart- and wandering hands...is that you, young man, or shall I go elsewhere?"

"Um, yes, that would be me." Pip sounded , attempting to peep up from Seras' form. "Could you please give us a moment, to get presentable?" The man bowed.

"Of course, Sir." However, the man did not move.

"He's not leaving..." Seras sing-song whispered. Pip arched his brow-what the Hell was this guy waiting for?

"Pay not mind to me at all, Sir. I am but your humble servant, Ari Mahal Rumianni waiting for your command. What is your wish , O' honourable Captain? Shall I gather up my forces, or collect arms?"

"Could I have my shirt please?"

Elsewhere- Hallway of Maximilian Villa-

Something twisted and stirred in the inky corner of the hallway. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be no more than a slip of a shadow, a mere play of the light against the wall. The form danced across the space, passing against the drapes making its way down towards the bedroom of the Arch Bishop. It snaked and slithered , slipping silently under the door, spreading like a gossamer mist. Unaware of the force surrounding him, Maxwell lolled on the couch, his head tilted back against the frame, his long, long hair spilling over the back. His eyes were half-closed and he basked in the dying heat of the fireplace. He had unbuttoned a few notches of his collar, and his whole body relaxed. A look of contentment settled on his features like an eastern idol- he had just spent a wonderful evening in the company of his intended -the pillows held her lavender essence captive, as if she was still present in the place. The heat and the wine had left him drowsy, drifting off into the soothing dark. His thoughts began to turn towards Integra- the smooth honey of her skin and the burned gold of her hair. The image of her slender fingers drifting against his face filled his mind and though it was wishful thinking, he could almost feel her hands gliding across his jaw. His pulse quickened , and desire started to flow and stir up in the chalice of his heart. His back arched and his body grew tense, aroused. He moved his lips to breath her name and fell into the depths of his own wants. The mist began to curl and surround the man, tickling his cheeks and slipping under his shirt, making the Bishop gasp.

"_Beloved..." _he moaned. Teeth and claws clicked in the dark...


	27. Chapter 27

I Remember Nothing

_She was his missing rib, the link between Eden and Earth. He was her angel, eternally watching over her. Nightly, they would join each other and rejoice in carnal communion, a celebration of their earthly temples. Her body entwined into his perfectly, two intricate, erotic pieces of a puzzle that fit eternally. His hands caressed her smooth hair , while her fingers traced silent psalms into his skin. His mouth grazed over the sweet, salty flesh of her breasts and stomach before delving lower into secret, sacred places. She cried out in pleasure, voice as sharp as a church bell, his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer. Their passion progressed to a heated, frenzied ritual, old as time, and yet, still fresh as their first night together. At the height of it, he buried himself deep inside the church of her heart, while her hips arched , as if reaching towards Heaven. In the calm that followed, they were a contented tangle of limbs and long hair_, _kissing gently and speaking in hushed tones. _

"_I can't sleep.," she stated glancing at the clock."I want to check in on the children." She rose and began to slip on her robe._

"_I'll come along." her mate added, donning his own . The pair padded down the hallway and peeked into the first bedroom, a quiet, cheery place filled with books, toys and a pair of beds occupied with two soundly sleeping boys, one of about eight, while the other was three years his junior. The elder yawned, stretched, and buried himself deep under the covers, while the younger one clutched a teddy bear and resembled a napping cherub. The door closed silently and the next room was inspected. A nursery housed the littlest one - a tiny bundle of pink and white, an infant daughter mewing in her sleep, small fists balled at her sides, as a dream stirred her body. Her mother leaned down and stroked her gently, attempting to ease the baby back into rest. Gingerly, she picked her up and patted her shoulders, cradling against her own._

"_Shh, there's a love, hush." her voice soothed. The father ran fingers over the blonde, dandelion fluff of her hair. He smiled, it was so much like his wife's . He pecked the top of his daughter's head and pressed close to his mate._

"_I love you." he whispered. She kissed him in return. _

Maxwell woke from the dream with a start- his head and chest were pounding and his breath was short. Whetherit had been a trick of the devil, or a reward from an angel, this dream, this _vision, _ was a blessing indeed. It was everything he had ever wanted- a hot bed, a whole heart, and a happy family. His entire body was shaking and left in a state of agitation. He calmed himself, took a deep breath and focused on the doorway. It was a risky move, perhaps even foolish, but more than anything he wanted to see her, confess this prophetic dream and see the reaction. Perhaps she would curse him, drive him out the room, or she might be touched by his sentiments, and if he was particularly fortunate, moved to express _other _emotions... After all, if he did not act, he would never find out. Cautiously, he progressed towards the door and out into the dim of the hallway.

Meanwhile, Sir Hellsing awoke from the same nocturnal in a similar state- her head and rib cage beat a fierce tattoo and her breath caught in the back of her throat. However, it was _disgust_, not desire that prompted the response. She clutched her hand to her chest and did the best to compose herself- a shadow with scarlet streaks watched from the corner.

"Oh God, oh, God, uggghhh!" she shuddered. Sex, she dreamt of sex, hot, passionate, _marital _sex and a full family, with a man she could not even _stand _to have touch her. This dream could not have come from her sub-conscious -it had a very supernatural hand guiding it.

"Alucard, reveal yourself -now!", she commanded, and the vampire appeared sitting cross-legged on her vanity , looking very pleased with himself.

" Did you enjoy your nap? You were so exhausted when you came in, I thought that letting you rest up a bit would be a good idea." Her eyes narrowed, and lips pursed.

"Sorry to have to inflict such a vision upon you, master, but it really was all for the best." he explained. Within a few strides, Integra crossed the gap between them and grasped at his collar, eyes bright as flares.

"Why in God's name would you conjure up such an image? " He merely smiled and shrugged.

"In order for the Bishop to become bewitched, I had to delve into one of his favourite fantasies-trust me, this one is much tamer than most of his thoughts-besides, I can't blame him- I've had similar dreams myself." Her knuckles turned white.

"You, you have?," she stammered, almost wistfully, but then anger soured her sweetness " But it was horrid- how could you put such an image on me?! I don't care what he wants! I would rather die a virgin than have that man's issue." The vampire rubbed his nose against hers.

"But , you have to know what he _desires _in order to deceive him, darling." he purred. The woman nearly choked her servant.

"Don't you '_darling_' me! That was so very, very wrong! If you ever try anything like that again, I'll castrate you with silver shears!" She snarled. Alucard looked hurt for a moment, but her rage was defused with a presence at the door.

"Calm yourself- _Hannibal arrivate la porta_. Make sure that you can play the part, la_ spousa_." He faded into a manic grin.

"Oh God, what do I do?", she panicked.

"_Let him in, and I promise you I'll handle him." her servant proclaimed._ Integra smoothed her blouse, took a little breath and opened the door. Enrico stood before her, hair a bit askew, his black priest's shirt rumpled, and a curious look on his face, a mix of nerves and anticipation.

"I know that it's late, but, please, may I come in?" he asked. She stepped aside, allowed him to enter, and gestured to the sofa. He sat down and folded his hands on his lap. Integra stood a bit of a distance from the man and observed the queer look on his face, like a nervous child with a wonderful discovery.

"I have no idea if you believe in dreams, visions, or intuition, but I have just had this revelation..." His emotions were raw, rising to the surface. Though she was weary, Sir Hellsing knew that she could use this to her advantage. She moved in closer.

"Ever since I was twenty-three, I yearned to find the one I could share my life with.. While I have had my conflicting issues with you for years, I, I...," his voice hushed. Integra drew near to his side, her eyes delving deep into his own Her hand slipped over his arm .

"Whatever do you wish to tell me .," she breathed into his ear. He closed his eyes as a staggered breath slipped from his lips.

"I want you for my wife..." he whispered He opened his eyes slowly and continued his thoughts. "Deep in my heart, I know that we can smooth our differences, and be very happy- please, give me a chance to prove myself."

"Oh, so you don't merely want a truce, a political alliance, when did you come to this sudden conclusion?"

"I just feel it in my core, down into my very bones- I haven't just had this image tonight, but several times, and now, I feel like Joseph, my dreams finally turning into -," His rambling was cut off by a finger to his lips. Sir Hellsing completed the his words.

" Prospects...A family, a warm, happy family , a soft bed and a pair of loving arms always waiting for you...," her voice was sincere, or at least as much as she could muster while silently, her stomach turned. She embraced him gingerly, nestling her chin on his shoulder. She could feel the rapid racing of his pulse dancing under his skin and his body trembling against hers.

" _I want you_.", he murmured as strong hands folded over her back and pressed deep into the lace. Over his shoulder, the woman could spy a swirl of darkness that had began to pool up in the corner-her servant had accompanied her in after all.

" _Now, for the final stroke- do what you must..." a sultry whisper sounded. The suggestion sounded unreal, like a martyr being told to sacrifice her body to the chopping block or funeral pyre. Integra huffed- it was either now or never . _ Her lips pecked the side of his neck_,_ brushing the smooth, supple flesh again and again, until a gasp escaped from him. She placed butterfly-soft kisses against chin and cheek, but avoided his mouth, only making the desire mount. His eager hands groped desperately, but with a mere flick of her own, they were contained and held fast against her sides.

"_Think of Christmas," she thought to herself," Think of cups of steaming chai in the drawing room, think of the iris gardens, any place, anywhere, but here and now." _ She squeezed her eyes shut and progressed with the affection; the attempts of emotional separation were the only defenses Integra possessed against being violently ill, or causing severe bodily harm to Enrico.

"_Think of making love to your dear, loyal servant who adores you above everything else in the world..." the husky voice purred. Integra opened an eye and saw that the shifting shadows had become a veil of curled, razor-grins and leering orbs. _

"_What the Hell do I do now!?," she silently screamed. _

"_Kiss him, press against him-pull away- it will drive him absolutely mad." _With every fiber of her being screaming in protest, she took his face in her hands, sapphire blue eyes meeting emerald in a heated gaze. She wet her lips, moved in gracefully, and kissed him firmly, deeply, passionately on the mouth. The Arch Bishop squeaked- a grown man with enough power to topple governments, extort presidents of industrial nations, and second in command only to the Pope himself, sounded like a school-boy experiencing his first romance. Self-restraint melted under the pressure of her mouth; his tongue rolled against hers like a galleon on the ocean and he was lost in a wave of heat and sweetness. Palms pushed over the muscles of her neck and massaged her upper arms. Briefly, thumbs brushed against the sides of her breasts, dipping forwards, tracing against the peaks , making his paramour sigh.

As the act continued, a horrible, terrifying truth revealed itself to Sir Hellsing-he was a very, very accomplished kisser. In spite of all of her emotional, moral , and personal barriers, the action was beginning to feel..._good, really good._ Perhaps it was her hormones or the ache of her persistent, prolonged virginity, but her body was beginning to comply . She dug fingers into the flesh of his shoulders and rubbed against him. Breath caught in her throat as his hands passed over the arch of her hips and finger began to curl up and under the hem of the blouse, circling against skin. A sharp, carnal throb rose up from the base of her heart, snaking its way down to endless pit of her stomach and pooling out in the swell of her lap. Her thighs felt liquid and arousal pulsed - for a split second, _she wanted him_.

Fear froze her blood, and she pulled away, horrified at the rush of feeling that she had just experienced. Maxwell continued to hold and kiss her jaw, caressing her slender waist, fingering her rib cage like a harp. Much to her distress, she saw the myriad of crimson eyes looking pained.

"I, I. I'm...," she stated to the wall, not caring if her partner heard her. She pushed his long fingers out from under the lace. The veil faded and an immense sadness pierced her heart.

"Cara mia, what's wrong?," he whispered, taking her chin in hand She could not even look into his face and guilt flooded her eyes.

" Poor thing, you are overwhelmed... ", he soothed. The Bishop held her close and stroked her hair, speaking soft words of love in Italian. "Do you want me to stay? I will only comfort you, I promise." She lingered in his arms for a beat, the passion cooling and a thick, sick feeling coating his touch. Gently, Integra relinquished his embrace.

"I think that you should go back to your room." she stated calmly.

"Afraid I'll try make love to you?," he teased, but carnality tinged his jest. The woman's cheeks flushed, and cast her eyes down, unable to look him in the face. Maxwell mistook her angst for shyness and thought her adorable- the 'Iron Maiden' turned blushing bride. As much as he yearned for their contact to continue and progress to a more intimate level, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and rose.

"My door will be open to you, if you wish to talk later or need company. Good night." When she was alone, Integra calmed herself and went to the corner.

"Alucard?," she whispered. "Alucard?," The room was still. "Please, come out, I'm sorry- I never meant for this to happen!" Silence made the space uneasy and sorrow washed over her being. She could have ordered him to appear with might and command, but she understood the ache that he must be feeling- it was her turn to come calling to him.

Elsewhere- Remains of the Merc Chemical Lab, Switzerland

A pair of Hellsing soldiers saluted Lord Andrew and continued their removal of several bodies, the last remains of the tragic mess. Making his way through the wave of men cleaning up, he took note of every detail, corpse, and stain of blood and bile. Andrew continued down the stairwell of the chemical plant and saw the laboratory tables His chest tightened up at the sight of the last body bag, a particularly small one being taken upstairs. Two remaining priests greeted him, their black vestiges fluttering behind them like wings. One was thin and about twenty-five or so with thick, chestnut chair pulled back in a braid, while the other one appeared to be no more than a teenager, a bit thicker in build, with short, choppy, black hair. His soft face reminded him of his own brother. The pair nodded to him in respect .

"Lord Hellsing, thank you for coming at our request.,"the younger one stated. " We know that you have spoken to Father Russo and some of our fellow brethren. We have come to aid you and your organization in any way possible for the continued clean up."

"Thank you." Andrew replied. While he was grateful to encounter co-operative forces, it was their eagerness to work with the Protestants that made him weary.

"My name is Father Lumi and this is Brother Valentino.," the older priest continued. "We have come to aid in 'Operation Sugar Cane .' " Andrew's eyes widened.

" 'Operation Sugar Cane'? What the Hell kind of name is that?," he flared. The two Iscariot agents looked at each other and the one man shrugged.

" Well, there was an underlying plan to lace cane sugar with the toxin, besides, sugar has always caused trouble for Haiti , so it's an appropriate code name after all." Brother Valentino explained. "Besides, 'Operation Zombie ' sounds too much like a horror movie." Lord Hellsing was beginning to lose patience.

"Look, I don;'t give a bloody damn what it's called- what else to we have to do to stop the spread of any other zombie outbursts- and how can I even trust you two to aid us with this?"

"The last remaining piece lays in Italy, Sir." Father Lumi informed."Also we have had enough of the manipulations and power plays of the Arch Bishop-he seems to get further and further away from the original purpose of Section XIII and is indulging his own quest for power- this plan must be halted. Are you with us, Lord Hellsing?" The man nodded in return and began to follow the two men out, calling to his remaining troops.

"Change of plans, gentlemen. It appears we'll be making a pit stop in Italy by morning." He bellowed. Andrew pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket and struck a match against the winter wind beginning to pick up from the East. He took a short puff and spat the smoke out into the night.

"Integra old girl, you'll be getting some company."

Hannibal at the Door- An old Latin/Italian saying that refers to the ancient conquer Hannibal arriving at the gates of Rome for battle via his elephants- it basically means that your troubles are outside your door...

Joseph - A reference to the Old Testament's son of Jacob who became Potifer's porter and then the dream/ soothe Sayer to the Pharaoh in ancient Egypt. His ability to interpret dreams saved the Nile from famine.


	28. Chapter 28

Insight

Hellsing Manor- The Drawing Room

Walter was used to all sorts of strange occurrences poking their nasty, little heads out as the sun set. Night-time emergencies had become his specialty, razor wires and a well-kept pistol never far from his side. He was prepared to stand and defend, eliminate any and_ all _threats to his homestead and to attend to the needs of the military. Tonight, the need was for several, large pots of chai, mounds of sweets, and a full four-course supper for Captain Ari and his crew. The butler was used to feeding the endless stomachs of Hellsing troops and the Wild Geese, but these men were ravenous! They were polite, grateful for the meal after a long, rocky arrival from Pakistan, but they ate like Trojans! Bowls of soup were downed, bread-baskets ravaged, and steaming cups of tea guzzled while the order for a dozen well- done _turkey_ steaks were called for .These were not men-they were bottomless pits!

Captain Bernadette was off to the side with Miss Victoria, a single cup of chai in hand, with an irked expression on his face. He was in no mood for this new company. While they were much better than a pack of drooling Zombies, it was neither the time nor place for dinner parties. It was bad enough that they did not know the plan for the evening, anticipating the worst from either Sir Integra or Lord Hellsing, but the fact that this rolly-polly, obnoxiously cheery mercenary had interrupted his private time with his sweetheart was nearly unforgivable.

"_Merde, if I had just had another ten minutes-TEN MINUTES! Is that too much for a man to ask for, some damned private time with his fiancee? I DIDN'T EVEN GET A CHANCE TO FEEL HER UP PROPERLY!!," he silently ranted. _The little vampire looked at her mate and cocked her brow.

"Um, honey, you really are thinking much too loudly.," she said softly. The man gripped his cup handle to the point of breaking.

"Sorry, I'm just really frustrated right now..." he replied through gritted teeth. She placed a gloved hand over his.

"So, do you really consider me your _fiancee_?", she asked. Before he could answer, Captain Ari bellowed out.

"Young lady, I see that you are not eating- are you not hungry?" he questioned between bites of meat and thick gravy.

"I had breakfast a little while ago, Sir. ", she replied politely. The man laughed heartily.

"Breakfast-HA! You British with your dry wit! How fortunate you are Captain, that your lady is so cheerful- not to mention absolutely lovely... " He stabbed the tender meal with his fork and delved into it. "She is such a gracious girl- your skin reminds me of the pearls around Lakshmi's waist and you have the sweetest smile." He raised his cup of chai. "To your bright smile, my dear..." The compliment made the creature flush pink and brought a small grin to her Frenchman. "Not to mention outstanding bosoms..." Ari continued with a smirk. Seras' eyes grew wide and the Captain's jaw dropped .

"Outstanding bosoms!," the Maharajas toasted. Walter shook his head- he was going to add "properly- burying -the -body -of- Captain Rumianni" to his long list of domestic chores for this evening...

Elsewhere- Maximilian Villa, The Gardens-

"Don't be afraid Paul, everything will be alright.," a smooth voice resounded in the dark. The little boy was shaking, not just from the bitter cold, but from icy fear that covered his body. He couldn't speak, a thick strip of rag gagged his mouth. Breathing was difficult, and the heavy scent of tobacco and spices flooded his nose. The tears that had slipped down his cheeks were plastered to his skin in sticky rivers and he could feel the pace of his heart running away from his body. All he could remember was that one of the priests, Father Christabello, asked him to come along with him, saying that he and a few of his friends were going to be moved into another part of the mansion. He had said something about the room not being properly warmed, and that there was another guest house across the grounds. Paul went willingly, after all, Father Christabello only wanted what was best for him. Perhaps, he should have listened to the tiny, scared voice in the back of his mind that thought it seemed funny that there were no other boys or girls accompanying him across the ice and snow and the garden shed seemed a little too small to be anything but a shed. He could have run back, returning to the warm house and the safety of his friends and Father Anderson, but when you are a child, a nice, loving child at that, you want to believe that something good must be going to happen.

The only other thing the boy remembered happening was something sweet and damp being clamped over his nose and mouth, lulling him into a deep, dark, sleep. When he came to, he was balled up, tied with strong rope and on top of what seemed to be a table covered with a rich, red cloth, candles, and bowls of rotting fruit. This is where he was now, shivering, watching the puffs of air from his nose turn into tiny, frozen clouds. In the dim space, Paul made out the figure of a man, his back to him, dressed in a long, black robe in the corner The man was chanting something in a garbled tongue- broken French and Creole and a strange, sing-song language Paul had never heard before. A sense of hope overwhelmed him- he _knew_ that voice! It was Papa Jack! He would save him! He would set him free! He would-

The figure that turned to face the boy was no more his benefactor than the Devil Himself. Paul stared into the blank, blue-white eyes of a man possessed, over-ridden with a sinister, supernatural energy that froze his heart and made his very soul tremble. The face resembled a painted skull in black and white greasepaint and was the very visage of death- it was the _Baron_, leering and grinning into the child's face, eager for a fresh, new soul.

"_Bon Nuit, Angel_.," he whispered as Paul screamed through the rag.

Elsewhere- The Alter of the Blessed Rose.

Alucard laid back on the hard wood of the pew, fists and eyes sore. He had returned to the catacombs after the botched seduction only to be met with chiding company.

"_Ohhh, looks like someone's upset-what's wrong, No-Life-King? Did she not play her role right?" _a skull sang.

"_No, it looks like the lady played it too well, eh old man_?" another teased.

"_What do you expect, after all, as much a bastard as the Bishop is, he's still human..._." A jawless horror proclaimed.

"_Still warm_, _still has a heart-beat_..." one stated

"_Still potent, able to sire human heirs_..." another indicated.

"_Why wouldn't she prefer him to you_,_ who wants to lay with a monster._.." Laughter resounded of the bone walls.

"Shut up!," The vampire snarled. Their empty noise grew deafening.

"_Did you see them together, oh, I bet that was rich_." one snickered.

"_Did they coo? Were there sighs_- _how romantic_!?"a voice swooned.

"_Forget that- what about the good stuff- the hot stuff_..." the tone grew bawdy.

"_Did they kiss_?'

"_Did she cum_..." The room chattered, and the creature grew ill. He should have ignored the stupidity of long-dead fools, but instead became enraged and smashed the skeletons, scattering fragments of bone deep into his own hands. He picked up the jawless tormenter and prepared to dash it to the floor, when the comment that stung the most was cast.

"_Stupid bastard, you were the one who encouraged the act, or did you forget? Where you so eager to see her smolder that you forgot she's only human? _"

Alucard lowered the skull and tossed it gently to the side. It was right; he was so wrapped up in the game of seduction and power that he forgot just whom he was using as a pawn. He looked down at his ragged palms, the flesh and cloth shredded to pieces, but the injuries were sealing up almost instantly. However, the hole in his heart gapped even wider. He made his way up into the sanctuary, a silent, comforting place to contemplate the results of this night. Being so linked to his master, he could read her thoughts and feelings as clear as glass, everything from memories to emotional states were audible to him. It just wasn't like he merely saw or heard these things, but _felt _them as if they were his own.

Even though it was a flash of hormones and friction, for a brief moment, she wanted him-_him_, that disgusting piece of human filth. He felt it run clean through his being- her desire boiling up inside her heart, aching for him. Certainly she had not planed for the reaction, but it still stung harshly, like salt water on a wound. It was his own fault- he had pushed her, coxed her, tempted Integra to find the femme fatale lurking just under her skin. Perhaps now the penalty for tampering with her maiden's armor was this God-awful feeling. Scenarios flashed through his mind- perhaps she did crave a human mate after all and was becoming his lover as he lay here. While usually in control of his fears to an almost obsessive level, the shadowy images of the two in the midst of the act made him shudder. To have her surrender her treasure to him and cry out Maxwell's name in rapture would be the silver stake through his heart. The creature clenched his teeth until blood flowed from his bottom lip in thick beads. It had taken years to finally melt her heart and taste her heat and now, he had just cast her away to the wolves. While the self-pity was heavy, a light voice called to him through the din of his own thoughts.

"_Alucard_?", _his master spoke_. The vampire first ignored it until his name was repeated and he felt her presence A pair of hands stroked his cheeks and he opened his eyes to the concerned azure gaze of Integra kneeling at his side. Traces of red ringed her irises and the look on her face was a mix of relief and guilt .

"I found you.", she whispered. The creature pressed her hand to his cold cheek and savored the touch. "I went to the catacombs, but the place was a mess- it was strange though, it was if a little voice was telling me to come up here." Alucard smiled in spite of himself.

"Nice to know that they can be useful after all." Integra looked confused. "Never mind. I'm sorry that -", before he could get out the rest, her mouth came down upon his firmly, not so much as a sign of passion, but as a plea for forgiveness.

"_I'm so sorry, I never, never meant to hurt you. I didn't know what would happen, I feel like I can never forgive myself for this ." _

"_You can and you will- it was my fault as well to push you where you should have never went- I'm sorry, I have no right to be angry, none at all- " the pair broke from their kiss and touched noses. _

"_You know what I am, I cannot blame you if you want to leave and have a normal, human life with a man instead of a monster." _

"_I know what I want, and it's you. Besides, when have I ever had a 'normal' life?" _The Cheshire King sat up and pressed against his master's side, arms wrapped firmly around him, her aura weary, but relieved. His own un-dead heart calmed to a smooth pace and hugged her back For a moment, he glanced up at the statue of the Lady Madonna and he could have sworn that the lips of the Mother were bowed into an approving smile. Strangely enough, the Scourge of Europe felt at ease.

"_I am to be forever surrounded by virgins...", he thought. _

"_Hush." Integra countered him with a kiss. _

Elsewhere-

"So, I should be expecting the other side of the Hellsing family by early morning, excellent! I do think that a promotion should be in order, Brother Valentino and when the mood takes me, I can be quite generous...," Maxwell's voice trailed off as his fingers played over the glass talisman strewn over his desk, the pale light filtering though the beads. "Just keep your superior from realizing the plan of action, I'm sure that we can deal with him when you return to the villa. Thank you, and God Bless!" He snapped the cell phone closed and grinned like a madman- what a night! It was perfect timing to have the _other_ Hellsing heir coming over-it would be like meeting his in-laws before the wedding, how lovely! Also, there was a little home-warming gift especially for him, just in case his cousin could be getting a case of cold feet... A single bead was crushed under his firm thumb and the Bishop licked the blood clean away- success never tasted so sweet...

Lakshmi - Hindi goddess of opulence, music, arts, and beauty, often depicted as a buxom, heavily bejeweled woman with four arms.

"When the mood takes me, I can be quite generous"- what can I say... I did do the Rocky Horror Show for almost 8 years as a Magenta/Trixie... some of it is still being worked out of my system as we speak, shudder, shudder, twitch, twitch...


	29. Chapter 29

Deliverance

_Just a slight warning...be prepared for tormenting...things get interesting_

By no means was it a quiet night on any front.

While the pounding in his head had ceased, Lord Andrew still felt uneasy touching down in Italy, a great feeling of dread embedded in the hollow of his stomach like a thorn. He was anxious to see his cousin and their servant, but he did not want to be out in the twisting air, for all the tea in China. More than ever, he wanted to be home, curled against his wife in their cozy bed, not facing a potential supernatural nightmare. When landing, the plane jolted to the side, causing him to almost lurch out of his seat, his laptop crashing to the floor. With a huff, he retrieved the computer and cursed out the entire continent for good measure.

Father Anderson and Sister Yumiko had searched the grounds for a missing child until almost three in the morning, panicking over Paul Estelle's sudden disappearance. With a heavy heart, the priest finally settled himself in for the night at Mrs. Le Chat's request. She had told him that the boy loved to play 'hide-and-seek' and was probably dozing somewhere in the catacombs. Father Andrew silently prayed that the lad had not come into contact with the Midian , becoming a midnight snack. If the child was harmed, Hellsing and all their forces would have to deal with the likes of him in the morning...

In the farthest corners of the frozen garden, a figure moaned and mumbled in an gibberish no one could understand while candles blazed into the night. The previous screaming had turned to whimpers and sniffled into barely audible moans. Then, silence claimed the place, leaving the "Baron" to gloat and gaze over his latest conquest. He raised a glass of dark rum to his lips and drank deep.

The Arch Bishop had attempted sleep, but was much to riled up to rest. The taste of his betrothed's mouth still lingered on his lips, and he could almost feel the firm muscles of her stomach and curve of her breasts under his fingers._She _had been the one to kiss him, express her affection, make her desire known- just the very thought of his woman yearning for him sent chills scurrying down his back like tiny spiders of lust. If he had been wise, he would have coaxed her back to his bed, making the honeymoon come early. Visions of black lace and leather, silk straps and the heated giving and taking of pleasure filled his head. His dreams were like chocolate that night; dark, sticky and bitter-sweet.

Back in Jolly Olde England, the rowdy pack of mercenaries finally slept after being sated with chai, beer, British cigarettes, and enough food to feed an army- Walter was still up until the wee hours cleaning with the young Draculina by his side. Her newly appointed 'fiancé' was dead a-sleep on the divan in the Dining Room, long braid wrapped around his neck like a scarf. For a moment, Seras cast a smile at the man, curled up on the couch in a little ball. To compensate for their exuberant toast, they had offered the Captain and his girl potent liquor; Seras didn't care for it and it only made the Frenchman pass out.

"He looks so rested, should we just leave him there?," she asked. The butler nodded.

"Let him have peace while he can- I doubt that we will have much calm for the next few days, and not just from our company."

"What makes you say that?", Walter adjusted his monocle.

"An old man's intuition."

Meanwhile, all was not fuss and tumult; others were up this evening, too, enjoying the hours of the wolf. The guestroom glowed amber with the tranquil incandescence of lanterns, shadows pantomiming the actions from the bed. Caresses, and kisses stretched over the wall, bodies arched and angling against the light. The pair were writhing; flesh against flesh, linen and lace peeling away to reveal new places to delight and torment with a flick of the tongue or a slap of the palm. His chest was as pale and soft as a lamb's, an alchemic pentacle etched into the lower belly like henna on carved ivory. She traced the ancient markings with a finger, making the creature stagger his breath.

Her flesh was supple and dark as burnt caramel, the blouse long gone, yet she still could not part from the of the scraps of thin lace covering her breasts-some modesty had to remain intact. The kissing progressed to a horizontal incline; master and servant's roles were now quite reversed with the Hellsing heir tucked firmly underneath her vampire. His mouth ran lovingly against the harsh line of jagged scaring on her upper arm, the treacherous birthday present her uncle had given her years before. She tensed when lips and fingers lowered, falling against the lace, barely containing her restraint.

"_Please._," she breathed, aching in his arms.

"Please ,_what_? " he whispered. teasingly. His consort wrapped herself around him, not quite exactly sure of what she wanted, honour and heat clashing against one another, her heart still caged, but her yearnings running rampant, like wild horses. Her scent was a paradox- the exquisite essence of virginity against a heavy musk of desire, fire and ice pouring out of her blood. She kissed him as if her life depended on it . He felt her slender hands dig into his sides and smoothed down gently to the ridges of his hips, pausing on the crest, refraining from dipping down below the belt and stroking the embers. He attempted to guide her hands, but she nervously pulled back. His own fingers started to slide underneath the remainder of her clothes when he felt his partner's spine go rigid- from want, from fear? It was all too mixed to get a clean aura.

If Alucard had been a base creature, she would have been claimed on the spot , gobbled up like a carnal treat on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to savour her essence, the bright, erotic spark of her being that was white hot at this moment. Fingers slipped into more private terrain and he felt her hips arch .Pleasure mounted and peaked, making her melt under his touch. Fangs brushed oh-so-lightly, scrapping the copper of her collarbone, while a low moan rose up from her throat- guttural, animalistic. The sound of her voice resounding like a tigress made him potent, filled with cravings he dared not reveal even to her.But, he paused , the Son of Cain peering into the eyes of Eve. He pressed himself deep into the curve of her hips, causing her heart to jump. For a moment she looked startled , sensing his urgency and her own so very, very _connected_. The Cheshire King was still for a moment and read her thoughts; while there were a dozen or so racing around, one stood out-

"_Thank God we both still have our trousers on_...," He could not help but laugh. She was more of a scared kitten then tigress in heat. His blood cooled and he kissed her, smothering the fire out under her lips.

"You are still _so _not ready...", he proclaimed. Integra looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was, I _want _to, it's just - oh dammit!" The woman pounded a pillow with her fist in frustration. Her vampire could not help but chuckle and buried his head in her lap, looking up into her flustered expression.

"_I could just take care of your needs..." The creature purred_. He attempted to reposition himself , face down, when Sir Hellsing squeaked a protest and nearly fell of the bed. She steadied herself and regained as much composure as she could in her current state.

"Perhaps it would be best to wait until we are back in England, under our own roof, after the family is safe and clear. I can't help but to have that on my mind." Integra stated low. A hand stroked her cheek.

"I know- also I feel like I should propose to you first before we progress." A look of surprise came over her face.

"What do you mean?",

"I would never want to tame you with the bridle of marriage, but perhaps we should discuss our relationship with the rest of the family, make it a bit more official, so to speak. " She paused and looked at him, biting down on her lip. "Did I say something wrong? Are you upset?" Integra shook her head.

"You're the husband my heart's always wanted..." she whispered

"And I only have room in my heart for you." he replied. Integra leaned down and kissed him. After they broke he licked her chin and grinned impishly.

"Such a shame, looks like I'll have to crash the Bishop's wedding... what would you like as a bridal gift, my love?"

"His head." Alucard's eyes glinted like knives.

"Which one?"

Elsewhere- Maximilian Villa

It was several hours before dawn and a call came into security. A few extra guards on the 4:30 shift fidgeted, weary eyes still watching the endless screens that surrounded the villa. With the convention in full swing, additional crews had been hired to monitor the place around the clock-after all, anyone who wanted to prove a deadly, political point would be hitting the jackpot if they chose to presently strike. A lone, black car came into view on the far right.

"Security, we have a single car, black-four-door model from the Hellsing Organization requesting entry." a voice informed through static . De Marco, one of the guards pressed the button and replied.

"We will be sending troops down, friendly assistance. " He turned to his partner"Can't be too careful these days, can we? You never know what's coming inside your house..."

Inside his car, Lord Andrew drew an exhausted breath and readied his briefcase and straightened the collar of his winter coat. . He wondered why the Hell is was taking so long to be allowed entry.

"It is a quarter after five in the morning, Sir." the driver commented, as if reading Lord Hellsing's impatient thoughts. After some banter on the intercom, the preliminary gates slowly creaked open, but behind them were four armed guards. Cautiously, the driver progressed up to the main gate and drove up to the mansion, the men literally following at every door. When the destination was reached, Andrew slowly got out. While the men parted and allowed him to get out of the backseat without much hassle, he was then asked to step aside.

"Please put down any and all packages, suitcases, or other bags." a troop informed him. Lord Hellsing complied and was then briefly frisked , his briefcase and laptop opened and checked.

"Can you please be careful with that- I think I already broke it on the plane!" he stated as rough hands whisked over the computer. He felt like an unfortunate kid going through a metal detector in an airport. His back and sides were padded down, revealing nothing but a half-eaten candy bar and a pack of cigarettes in his left, coat pocket. He wished that they would hurry it up; even with a full-length wool coat and scarf, he was freezing in the harsh wind. When all was said and done, he was escorted in, the men never leaving his side. The young, dark-haired priest-in-training, Brother Valentino, greeted him warmly.

" So glad that you could make it through the weather to Italy!" The men shook hands, and Andrew leaned in slowly.

"Where is Father Lumi?", he question in a low tone.

"Don't worry, you'll be seeing him soon." Valentino's voice became louder."Come with me, let's get down to business." He gestured to the troops and they dispersed. Brother Valentino gestured to the Hellsing heir to follow him quietly down the hall.

Integra had been right about the place being opulent, not to mention just a bit on the gaudy side. He did have to admit that this man had quite a great collection of art- everywhere he turned, a religious painting caught his eye. A beautiful portrait of a pair of reclining cherubs watched over him as they passed down deep into the villa. "The hallways were dimly lit at this hour, but Andrew could make out where he was going just fine. They halted right outside what appeared to be an office of sorts. Strangely enough, it reminded him greatly of his cousin's working area back in the Manor. A light strain of opera, "Madame Butterfly" could be heard from the inside. The young man tapped on the door and announced the presence of the guest.

"Please allow him to come in..." a mild voice countered from behind the thick, carved panels. The portal creaked open and the pair made their way into the room. The front part of the office was softly illuminated, but the rear was still murky, the heavy drapes closed. Sitting at his great desk was the Arch Bishop himself, clad in a rich velvet robe of deep, midnight blue. His hair was loose about his shoulders, and he appeared quite awake for this hour of the morning with a cup of coffee at hand.

"Greetings, my dear friends-won't you both sit down?" Lord Andrew shook Maxwell's extended hand, and sat in front of the him , setting his briefcase to his right. Brother Valentino stood behind him and gave a respectful nod.

"I appreciate you coming out from England so early, Lord Hellsing- there is much I want to discuss with you."he explained after a sip. "I do so love a good, hot cup of café in the morning- gets the blood pumping. Would you like some? "

"No thank you , Sir."

How was your trip from London?" The Bishop's grin became wider and warmer.

"Actually, I came from Switzerland, sir and yes, we do have much to discuss." The Bishop arched his light brow.

"Oh really- do tell. I believe that there may be some traitors, some mutinous priests that are stirring up trouble in my name." With a sharp snap, Andrew opened his case and retrieved a green folder, tossing it onto the desk .

"Oh, and what is all of this?" Maxwell asked with interest, opening the file and flipping through it as if it was a magazine in a doctor's office.

"You should very well know what all that is- blackmail. "

"I would be very careful throwing that word around, Lord Hellsing." he warned, voice low. Andrew was not phased in the least-no wonder his cousin couldn't stand this pasty, little twit.

"You went through with illegal adoptions, illegal copies of deeds and documentation, and performed illegal experimentation that defy basic human rights codes... and did them all in my cousin's name- what else would you call it, Father Maxwell?"

"I would call it insurance for the future. I merely needed a bit of _subtle i_nfluence to push your cousin's hand." Andrew gave him a stern look.

"Into what-murder?"

"Matrimony." The look changed into 'you've -got-to-be kidding-me.' The Bishop drained his cup and placed it down harshly.

"I don't appreciated your sick humour." Andrew hissed. Enrico leaned in close.

"And I am not fond of your arrogance. A few nights ago, your cousin agreed to marry me under the Rosa Maria Contract, thus giving me half of her London estate, the entire track of her European property, and funding, including the stipend from Parliament. All of this will pass into Section XIII, and we can all live happily-ever-after, if you decide to co-operate. "

"The only place you are going to end up is either the brig or the loony bin, you bloody sot." Andrew hissed. "You have no need to do this to my family on any basis, religious or other wise. Your scheme will come crashing down, Maxwell." All of a sudden, Andrew felt something cold, dead-cold at the back of his neck and about the diameter of a quarter. The muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of his spine. Brother Valentino stood motionless, finger poised over the trigger.

"Bloody traitor." he spat. A smug grin stretched over the Arch Bishop's face as he rested his chin in his hands.

"Now tell me, Lord Andrew, are you a little more open to conversation now? " No response. Maxwell sighed. "Alright boys, come in, don' t be shy." Something stirred from the back of the room. There was a shuffling of feet and two figures, one the size of a man, the other about the height of a child came forwards. The same sickly-sweet stench of the Laboratory drew closer, like the breath of death.

"Oh dear God..." was all Andrew could muster.


	30. Chapter 30

Warsaw

Before accompanying his mum, brother, and wife back to England, Lord Andrew led an interesting life; he was the honoured son of Richard Windgates Fairbrook Hellsing, 'esteemed' co-head of the Hellsing Organization., and Captain of the Section 43 of the English Branch of the India Army. While his tactics were not always traditional, Andrew thought of himself as an honurable man. True, he was a vicious fighter, cocky, sometimes arrogant in his youth, but even as he teetered on the verge of society, he had some codes that were not to be broken; try to keep innocents out of the picture. If someone was a bloody terrorist, an opposing force, mow them down, do not accept defeat- crush all enemies. However, 'enemies' did not include the weak, powerless, those on their death-beds or clutched in the cradling arms of a mother. That type of warfare was saved for animals, bloody, desperate animals who did not even deserve the title of mercenary. As wild as the Maharajahs could be, even they observed these rules. (One man even paid for his honour with his life by attempting to save what he thought was a child, when it turned out to be an ambush using a corpse as bait). Even after his father's disgraceful behaviour and their exit from London Society, Andrew never lost track of his idea of decency. His wife and her Hindu relatives would often speak of _Karma,_ and the harm or good men could do in the world.

"_Meena, I've been a bad, bad man." he would whisper occasionally to her in the middle of the night, when his heart was heaviest._ His wife would turn and press her palm to his cheek and comfort him.

"_Think of all that you have done over the years-not just the good, or just the bad, but every action carries weight in the world. You have a heavy yolk to bear and I think you have raised up some good with it. "_ _Right now, Andrew tried to remember his dear wife's words as he met empty, dead eyes, and wondered just what kind of Karma this sick, freak of a Bishop was going to have..._

A pair of glazed, bluish eyes stared blankly at Lord Andrew, churning with energy, yet their owners possessed no life of their own. Father Lumi resembled an emaciated corpse with tattered skin peeling off his chin like the rind of an orange. His priestly vestiges showed signs of violence; the collar torn and the sleeve of his right side pulled clean away, revealing the stained, white shirt underneath. Thick splatters of green-yellow puss and dried blood crusted the shoulders in large droplets, while the vile liquid oozed from his colourless lips. To the 'man's' left was a child, no more than seven or eight with a ghastly grey complexion, the puss running from his nose like a faucet. The boy stood gaping at the men, his small mouth shaped in a dumb-struck 'O'.

"Christ Almighty- what have you done?" Lord Hellsing sputtered. Maxwell shrugged.

"Sometimes people forget their place and have to shoved back down. I think now both of them will be very useful. Now I'm going to grant you a little leeway, since you will become family in a matter of weeks. You can be shot cleanly and quickly, let these fine gentlemen have you for breakfast, or agree to work with me and attend a lovely ceremony united my household with yours...I suggest you do hurry it up, I have my morning yoga to set up for in about fifteen minutes..." Andrew sighed. He still felt the metallic chill from the gun and it only pressed harder into his flesh. He was no good to his cousin dead or disemboweled, so the later was the plan of action-for now.

"I guess I have no choice- I will be glad to give the bride away."

"Splendid. I knew you were a man of reason. For the time being I will set you up in a room on the other side of my Villa- I will let Integra know that you are here in a day or so, when it's closer to Christmas and we can all talk about arrangements. Brother Valentino, can you please lower your weapon?" The man complied, and Maxwell pressed the intercom button, requesting some assistance. He shooed the pair of horrors into the furthest corners of the room and commanded them to sit, faces to the wall, like good pets.

"Cooperation makes everything so much easier, wouldn't you agree?, " the Arch Bishop beamed. Valentino nodded while his captive scowled. In a few moments, a pair of servants came into to escort Lord Andrew to his quarters. The door clicked behind them, and Maxwell approached the young man. He plucked the gun out of his hands and tossed it on the desk, grasping his firm arms and kissing him roughly. The pair broke and a pleased smile played over his lips.

"Good boy, a job well done. " the Bishop complimented. The young brother kissed his cheek and nuzzled the tip of his nose against his ear.

"So does this mean I get that promotion?"Valentino breathed.

"Oh yes, very much so..." his fingers danced against the sides of his waist, making tiny circles against taut flesh. The young man was getting quite...interested.

"Can we have a little repeat of the other week, please?" He began to tug at the opening of his robe, slipping needful fingers underneath. Maxwell primly brushed them away.

"Let me turn up the music a bit, just so that we can be a bit more _vocal _this time." He proceeded over to the stereo system on the wall and the volume rose, the strains of Puccini, vivacious and pulsing through the dawn. He returned to the eager boy, hungry for his lips and skin, the young man lost in licking his lover's neck, entwining that long, light hair in his hands. The affection grew heated and the pair sank onto the floor near the desk Brother Valentino was on the bottom, desperately attempting to untie the sash of the robe, while Enrico sat up for a moment.

"Let me get the light, _Angulo _." he purred, reaching up to the desk to click the lamp off. He returned to his partner who had finally succeeded in disrobing him and was progressing on to unknotting his pyjama pants. He delivered a swift, fierce kiss, tongue lapping the inside of his mouth, bitting down on the boy's lips, hard enough to draw blood. The Bishop licked the corner of his chin.

"So sweet..." he breathed. The boy's wide, brown eyes met his with a look of absolute adoration.

"_Ti adorno_.", he professed. "I would do anything for you..." Maxwell patted his cheek and grinned.

"I know-that's why I'll make this quick..." With a swipe, the man slashed at the cheek of the boy with a sharp, silver letter-opener, leaving a bright, crimson streak over his face. He jabbed him harshly in the side , tearing through his robes. A flesh wound, but harsh enough to cause a light flow of blood to come seeping out.

"I, I don't understand??", the panicked boy exclaimed, attempting to cover the gash in his cheek. The Bishop stood back and tossed the bloodied tool to the back of the room, where the zombies began to stir at the scent.

"Oh boys-_breakfast_." he whispered. Before Brother Valentino could get up, a small figure flashed across the room and latched onto his shoulders , biting down furiously into the muscles of his neck. A thick spurt of blood gushed forwards as the Brother began to scream. Maxwell looked disgusted- he hated when his opera was interrupted.

"Can you silence him, please?" A little hand reached into the boy's gaping mouth and began to grasp at his tongue, his cries becoming garbled. "Madame Butterfly" played onward, as Father Lumi slumped towards the struggling pair. "Oh," he indicated to the elder,"When you're done, tidy up and return to the basement, unseen. Can't have you eating up any of my more _usefu_l staff..." A sound of muscle tearing projected from Valentino's skull and his groans of agony muffled. Maxwell, shut the door, and proceeded down to the hall. Ah, it was just about dawn with the pale gleam of the sun attempting to relight the world. A bit of morning exercise, another fresh cup of coffee all before the house woke up- lovely way to start a morning. As he passed the path to the kitchen, an idea struck him- why not make some breakfast for his fiancee? Toast, eggs once-over-easy, kippers, and a nice hot pot of tea- after all, the way to anyone's heart was through their stomach...

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor, Captain's Quarters

Dawn was beginning to rise up, indicating to the little vampire that her bedtime was approaching. While her diurnal strength was increasing , her daytime hours were still limited, and sleep was very necessary to a growing girl. Seras looked down at her unconscious Frenchman, sprawled on the floor in a pile of blankets and attempted to rise without rousing him. It had been a _very _long night.She had carried him off the divan at about three-thirty, pulled off his boots and eye-patch and settled his dead-weight into bed. She quietly spent an hour or so reading- she was currently on "The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde."when she was rudely interrupted by her sweetheart. He plopped his head onto her lap and slurred out words of 'love', even though they were a lot more colourful than his normal terms of endearment.

" My little, hot _virgne_, my mignonette, my wet honey piiiieeee. You have noooo idea how _hot n' bothered _you get me...," he sputtered

"That's nice dear.," she replied pleasantly, attempting to pay no mind to his present state. Like an ignored cat, he buried his head in her abundant chest and began snuggle , knocking her book out of her grasp. While she tried to compose him, the creature was quickly covered by a half-drunk, amorous Captain , professing his undying love for her, in horribly cute sentences and sloppy kisses.

"I lubs yoooouuuuu..." he sang," soooo much." His unkempt braid flopped over Sera's shoulder, and the stink of liquor flooded her face as he pecked her cheeks and forehead. "I'mb gonna marry you and lub you foreverrr...I hab the prettiest girl in Eng'land, Hooooray!"

"Hooray.," she sang back, though much quieter. He began to grope her chest when she calmed his hands.

"Honey, please." He rubbed his nose against hers.

"Even though you're the most evil teassse - I neeeevvvver get annnnyyyyy-ever!" She batted away hands attempting to grasp up her skirt. His hands floundered like land-bound fish, and he continued his complaints.

"I don't get no lubbin'!",

"Hush!,"

"None, none, none!," he sang. Aggravated, Seras gave him a slight push, but he rolled to the right, and plunked off the bed nose first, and onto the carpeted floor.

"Are you OK?", she asked. The man lay there, face pressed into the plush carpet and muffled a few words that sounded like 'ouch'. Seras leaned over and tapped his back.

"Honey?" He turned to her with a lop-sided grin.

"Let's make lub-right here, right now, babe.," He slapped the floor and winked his good eye at her."C'mon down!" His fiancee huffed and tossed a blanket over him and with a swift move, plucked up Pip's head by his braid and plopped it down on a pillow. Before she could even speak to him again, he drifted out cold. Seras grabbed her book and began to settle in again. That had been four-thrityish or so. It was now currently approaching sunrise, and she began to creep out of bed and back to her coffin. A hand shot up and grasped her ankle, making her start.

"Honey- lamb, I don't feel so good...," the Captain gurgled. His face looked green and even his dead eye had bags around it. Seras scooped him up and proceeded to help him vomit the remains of the night in the basin in the toilette, pulling his long hair back and out of harm's way.

"_I'm sorry I'm such an ass...," he thought to her, unable to speak at the present moment._

"_It's alright- but if you ever use baby talk again, I'm punching you..." _It was already a start to a fabulous morning...

Elsewhere, Maximilian Villa-

Sir Hellsing was sprawled against the thick warmth of her blankets, cuddled up deep in the heavy layers of bedclothes. Beside her, her vampire curled up in a rather large ball, beginning to doze like a large, predatory cat. While the pair had stayed up late into the night, Integra finally succumbed to sleep around quarter to four. Alucard had remained awake until the first, preliminary rays of dawn had crept through the drapes. While he did not always need a full day's rest, it was nice to get some extra sleep-the villa was both physically and spiritually draining. While just rousing into consciousness, Integra could have sworn she smelled something warm and buttery coming down the hall, and heard the pattering of feet drawing dear her door. She sat up, pyjamas rumpled and hair everywhere; she brushed a lock away from her eyes and squinted at the door. Someone was outside. She pushed at the side of her servant, but he did not stir, a deep vampire's sleep had come over him.

"Alucard, someone's here- you've got to hide, or transform, or something!," she whispered. He replied with a great, wide yawn, and snuggled into the coverlet She pricked at his shoulders with sharp nails-no response. There was a light tap at the door.

"Darling, are you awake?", the Arch Bishop inquired.

"Dammit!," she cursed. There was no budging the creature, and as amusing as the look of horror would be on Maxwell's face, she did not want to rile him at this early in the morning. Quickly, she covered the form with a pile of blankets.

"Just a moment...," Integra replied. There was a clinking of plates and then the door handle slowly turned. When the Bishop entered, he found his lady sitting up in blue, cotton pyjamas with the blankets jumbled around her. She smiled gently at him with tired eyes.

"Good morning-I know it's early, but I was up and made some breakfast- English style. Now, we can start the day together." he beamed, presenting a large, silver tray before her.

"Um, thank you."the woman replied, turning a piece of hair behind her ears. She felt the lump next to her stir and prayed that he would not toss in his sleep. Maxwell drew near and placed the tray on the night stand, pulling up a chair so he could sit beside her . He smiled triumphantly as he removed the covering and revealed the steaming meal; bright yellow, scrambled eggs, a few thick, salty kippers, heavily buttered toast, and a piping cup of fragrant Earl Grey.

"I figured that you might prefer something a bit more substantial than my usual café and pastry."

"Thank you.", she cautiously sniffed the tea and took a small sip. It already had plenty of sugar and was a deep amber hue.

" It's not poisoned, just I've watched how you take your drink a few times...you didn't need more sugar, did you?"

"It's fine." She began to dig into the eggs before they got cold. They were mushy, but edible. Enrico seemed quite pleased with himself and began to much a slice of toast. They began to chat softly when , all of a sudden, Sir Hellsing felt something brush against her leg. Long, probing fingers reached out and caressed her knee, progressing upwards towards her thigh.

"_What the hell are you doing?," she mentally chided. Alucard's thoughts were quite unreadable at the moment, other than he was having very vivid and inappropriate dreams. _ Integra did her best to keep a straight face.

"Your cousin Andrew contacted me this morning and said that he will be coming to Italy in just a few days, right in time for Christmas." Integra paused, fork in mouth- these undercover strokes were becoming quite_ personal _. Her cheeks flushed pink and she swallowed hard.

"Anything wrong, cara mia?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her sudden stiffening.

"No, no, " she squeaked _,"_Just a bit jealous- we're very close, so I usually get contacted first " A gentle pull undid the knot at her waist as _personal_ pushed to _intimate. _She bit down on the napkin to prevent a gasp. The Arch Bishop pattered her shoulder.

"Well, we will all be family soon enough, so have no fear, you will see your Andrew ." The woman let out a sharp breath and clutched her abdomen.

"I'm having some personal issues right now, would you mind..."

"Of course, of course. I will see you later on this morning." Enrico rose and left, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. As soon as the door shut, she ripped off the covers off and promptly pushed the paramour off her, breathing heavy with a mix of annoyance and arousal. The creature grinned precociously with sleepy, half-closed eyes.

"Do you have any idea how risky that was- what if you had been caught!!" Alucard smirked.

"Want me to finish?," he slurred. Integra glared. He shrugged and lazily curled back into his bed. With a calming breath, Sir Hellsing pushed her mane to the side, and attempted to ready herself for another trying day.

"_I need a damn drink_..." _she thought."And a dry pair of knickers..."_

Angulo- Angel, Spanish.


	31. Chapter 31

Decades

After the night of unexpected company and drunken antics, Captain Pip Bernadette woke with a horrible, acidic taste coating his mouth and a headache like a mule-kick to the skull. He glanced up at the glowing face of his alarm clock and cursed. It was ten in the morning- he never slept later than eight on his work days, usually rising even earlier. The other side of his bed was cold- Vic had probably left hours ago as the sun crept up. ( It would have been delightful to wake up to her next to him-preferably naked , but no such luck.) The light streaming through the curtains caused his head to pound harder and good eye to narrow. He rose slowly to stagger and close the drapes. He nearly tripped on the rug before coming back and flopping down on the bed. A small flash of white caught his eye before he plummeted into the coverlet-a note had been left on his pillow. He squinted and read.

_Sweetie-_

_I wanted to be here when you woke up, but it's getting late and I need to rest. There's a cup of post-hang-over remedy on the night stand and Walter will be up to see how you are doing later. Love you. _

_Vic_

_P.S.- You will be getting my uniform dry-cleaned this week- you can't hold your liquor for shite..._

A sweet, sloped smile spread over his face- she had to be the best girl in the world to put up with his nonsense. He hoped that he hadn't been too much of an arse the previous night; the last time he had gotten really, rip-roaringly drunk had been well over a year ago, but he did not want to make it a habit, like in the careless days of his youth- he now had a future fiancee to consider, not to mention her deadly temper... Carefully, he downed the sour-tasting remedy which reminded him of rancid milk, and attempted to get some more sleep, when a pounding on the door echoed inside his head. Pip pressed himself deeper into the pillow, before reluctantly rising like an aggravated child and opened the door. He was expecting to see the butler with a plate of English chow, but instead he stared right into the visage of Mr. Cheery, Captain Rumianni.

"Good day, my friend, and how are you faring after last night's revelries?" he beamed with a toothy grin, a very white smile that appeared even brighter when contrasted with his deep skin and dark features. While the Frenchman was ready to smack his morning tormentor, he noticed a covered tray in hand and smelled the distinct aroma of fresh coffee and something sweet. He grumbled a greeting and bid him enter. Pip made his way back to the bed and sat up wearily; he was still half-dressed in his last night's torn jeans, but his face was bare. Instinctively, he grabbed his eye patch from the night table and placed it over his injury. His long, copper hair shot wildly out of his braid, so instead of fighting it, Pip just undid the rebellious coif.

'"Don't mind me.", he slurred, fingers catching in a thick knot. "Just you caught me before I got washed up." Ari put the tray down and removed the lid; a substantial meal of griddle-cakes, fruit and a small, somewhat burnt portion of eggs with a spicy-smelling sauce, accompanied by a mug of black java. Pip did have to give the man credit- he was annoying as Hell, but hospitable.

"I'm sure that the teasing last night caused your lady some embarrassment, so I have made you a meal to ease your stomach and any hard feelings."

"Thanks, but there's no bad blood, honest. Vic's got a thicker skin than it appears." He took a slow sip of the beverage and let it flow down his sore gullet gently.

"Eat up, Captain- later on I will be going over how to dispatch of these monsters with my troops and yours."

"You do know that we can't kill these people- they're kind of innocent by-standers of sorts."

"I discussed what can be done to stop an invasion at the manor without taking the life of the intruders- according to Andrew, this Maxwell character intends to use children to carry out his plans. I've seen my fair share of bloodshed Sir, and if we can prevent death, by all means, let us try. " he stated calmly.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Immobilization through pressure points and charkaras." Pip took a bite of his eggs and inwardly winced- why must everything taste so damn bitter during a hang-over?

"Sound more like a massage or spa treatment rather than a battle plan. " Ari wagged a finger at him.

"Don't knock it until you try it- channeling and binding energy can be very successful in immobilization. Remember, these are pawns, we must be clever knights and trap them." Captain Bernadette nodded, continuing his breakfast.

" I will leave you to eat in peace-please be ready by noon in the barracks with your men. Oh, and do you want me to prepare a meal for your lady?"

"Thanks, but she's resting right now." Ari cast a quizzical

stare. "Um, she does the night shift around here..."

Elsewhere- Maximilian Villa.

While the morning had gone more smoothly than planned, in spite of surprise visits and _unusual_ behaviour, Sir Hellsing carried on with her act of cajoling and catering to the Arch Bishop. Her voice and demeanor were cordial and bright; she had re-visited Maxwell in his office during the late morning, and chatted 'pleasantly' with him. It was upon his request that they take the day off together, escape the convention and partake in a trip to a neighbouring town and explore a few private galleries of sculpture and art.

"We'll take the train in - it will be lovely, private.", he explained, stroking her hand. Integra smiled politely and silently called out to her servant.

"_While he is gone, take full advantage of the situation. Find the Baron, eliminate all opposition and terminate the remainders of any and all paperwork. " _

"_As you wish, Master- oh, and are you feeling any better from this morning, after all 'personal' pains should be looked into..." _

"_Not funny..." _

"_If they persist, perhaps you should have some capable hands to relieve your aches. I could be very useful in such matters." _

"_You should keep your hands to yourself for time being, Alucard." _

"_Hmmm, such a cruel master you are... I'm only being helpful." _The woman's reprimanding was interrupted by the sudden tinge of pressure on the small of her back as Maxwell curled his fingers around her spine. Sir Hellsing side-stepped and grinned sweetly.

"_Would you prefer his hands in your lap or mine..." her vampire teased. _

"_I should dip your fingers in Holy Water... Bloody perverts - the both of you need Salt Peter." she stated, mouth aching from the unnatural cheer. Dark laughter resounded._

"_Stop denying , you loved every minute of it... you should have let me finish, though..."_

_"Dammit, I wish his goodbyes didn't take forever, my cheeks are ready to split from all this perkiness." _

"Are you ready to leave, dear?," Enrico asked, retrieving her coat and his own from the stand. The Bishop held her sleeves open and attempted to slip the jacket over her shoulders and steal a kiss. Integra pulled the wool coat over her arms and wished that he would not be so doting- she was beginning to feel like a four-year old. The warmth of his lips on her cheek felt sticky, and she prayed for strength, patience, and an opportunity to 'accidently ' knock him down the stairs at the museum... The pair departed and from the dim corner of the room, Alucard took a deep sigh and began his mission.

Elsewhere-

The Le Chats were still deeply troubled by the disappearance of Paul Estelle. After a full night and the early morning spent searching for the boy; he had not returned to his room, nor to the auditorium for choir practice. Angelique sat pensively with her husband holding her hand . Father Andrew sat beside them, desperate for ideas of just where the boy could have run off to.

"Perhaps the child has gone ta the other side of the villa, or he could be in the wine cellars..." Father Anderson suggested. The woman shook her head.

"No, we checked there- Paul is afraid of the dark, he would avoid such places.," the woman stated. Jacques looked strained.

"Right now, it is very important to keep the children calm and focused- Christmas is just a few days away and the concert must stay a priority." Mr. Le Chat said. "We also don't want any of the pouppes taking the matter up themselves and start searching for him." The others agreed with heavy hearts- things must be kept in tow for the sake of the children. After Anderson had departed, Angelique grasped her spouse's arm and peered deep into his eyes.

"Darling," she whispered , " Can't you remember anything from the other night? Was Paul anywhere near you when the chevalier occurred?" He shook his head.

"You know that I cannot recall anything when the Baron overtakes me- I could ask him to help locate Paul, but right now, he is not pleased-the vampire still roams freely and Baron knows that the freak will interrupt his sessions."

"I have tried to stop him, but he is clever, mon ami.,"

"Right now, let's just focus on our boy, he has to be somewhere around here, don't worry, we'll find him." Mrs. Le Chat hugged him tightly and wondered just where on earth was he hiding. A tiny, sly voice reverberated in Jacques' skull-

"_I've got him, don't bother..." and dark laughter bounced over the crevasses of his mind. _

Elsewhere- The Conservatory

"Children, I am so proud of how all of you are doing with your lessons- In just three days we'll all be performing- isn't that great?!" Sister Yumie beamed. The small audience clapped and a joyful round of cheers and laughter filled the stage. While taking over the reins of the production had not been an easy task, it was finally coming around; the students had co-operated and the Sister had resisted the urge to smote them with her unholy rage- thus, success! The reality of the concert was creeping in over all of them like the drifting snow outside. Once again, the young nun set up a mock performance and requested that all get to their places immediately. Marguerite raised her tiny hand for a question.

"What is it, dear?," she inquired.

"Sister, who's gonna sing Paul's part today-he's not here?," The little Estelle boy had not returned and the staff was beginning to get nervous. A few faces looked upset that their friend had not shown up. Yummie merely tapped her cheek and held her finger up theatrically.

"How about I sing Paul's part for now, and when he comes back he can sing it." Some of the children giggled.

"But Sister, you're a girl- Paul sings the boy's part.", Maggie informed her. Sister Yummie gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth in mock horror. She was enjoying her playtime with these bright souls and relishing a little non-violent interaction. She assumed her position behind the great, polished piano, and struck up a few chords, fingers flying over the ivories.

"Places please, let's start off with "Silent Night," and sing like the whole world's listening!"

Elsewhere-

Maximilian Villa is a vast place, spreading far out over its property in two, divided sections. One is the main, or prima manor where the head offices,sanctuary, gardens, and living and entertaining quarters are located. The secondary manor, slightly smaller in size, but equally regal, lays across from the garden, beyond the beastly fountain and stables. While the homestead is beautiful, filled with earthly treasures and art, and some of the finest furnishings in Europe, no amount of paint or canopies, antiques or exquite trappings can disguise the true nature of the place. While the Maximilians were gracious hosts indeed, their cruelty and domination permeated the very air.

The rooms in the far manor were once used as interrogation chambers, places of fear, intimidation, and pain. These were areas of torment and forced will, where so many men and women had met an untimely fate under the pretense of the intentions of the 'righteous'. Rumour also had it that old Senor Maximilian had imported over courtesans from France in the 1800's and kept them there in secret for his own personal pleasure, some of his tastes running quite dark and sadistic. Apparently, the tradition upheld itself well into the modern era, with Enrico's own harlot mother having once been a tenant there, right under her lover's spouse's nose. Now, while it appeared to be no more than a spacious abode covered over with delicately - printed wallpaper and pleasant Rococo decor. Andrew could see nothing wrong with the quarters, but he could certainly_ feel_ it. It was a warm and fashionable suite, with light , wood furnishings and rich, peach drapes, but there was something cold about the environment that no amount of heat could soothe. He leaned back in the recliner and let out a frustrated puff. The cigarette nearly burned down to his fingers, ashing on the sleek leather, turning it grey.

Since witnessing the grizzly scene from this morning, his stomach was knotted up like macrame. He was a 'guest' in the House of Maxwell, a prisoner in an elegant cell. Meanwhile, who knew what that sick dog was planning, dragging his whole damn family deeper and deeper into whatever self- created horror novel forging in his mind. He crushed out the smoldering coffin nail in the ash tray and felt sick, waves of helplessness washing over him. Lord Hellsing was a man of action, not some impotent sod wasting his time, but what to do? Outside, two of Iscariot's priest's were keeping watch with serene smiles on their lips and fully-loaded guns at their sides. Even if he was able to break out of the room, down the hall, that little beast was lurking in the shadows, prepared to rip him into ribbons. His mind raced with ideas, however, it needed some fire-power in order to work. It was a shot in the dark, but worth trying. He got up and rummaged through his briefcase, hoping that they had not done a completely through job of procuring his belongings. A few, clumsy gropes led to a bolt of triumph shooting though him as he discovered that their frisking had ignored one of his old tricks. Hidden inside a hollowed, leather Bible, a pair of small handguns were nestled in, wrapped up in a swatch of silk. Andrew gave Divine thanks, held up, and examined the weapons-the magazines were loaded and he checked the barrel for any damages.

"Hallo Lucy, Rita.", he greeted."Did you loves miss me?"

Elsewhere...

The Gardens.

Alucard moved silently across the ice, gliding silently like a great, black owl over the frozen land. He retraced his steps to the garden shed and entered through a crack under the door. The alter inside had been tampered with and there were definite signs of a struggle; a small table had been knocked over and candles and bowls had been toppled over, leaving a trail of wax like red veins over the skin of stone floor. The stench of the room made his delicate un-dead nose flare: rum, dried blood and the sour- sweet scent of ruined fruit. An essence of bile tinged everything present and after searching a bit more, the vampire detected half-frozen puddles of it on the floor and tables.

"This place reeks to Heaven, let's do everyone a favour and clear the air.," he stated as he tore open his hand and spilled a torrent of black blood out into the place. It merged and swirled with the liquor, bubbling and coating the walls and covering the floor. Alucard produced a small lighter, one of his master's extra flints from her coat pocket, and struck the flame. A dark, merry cheer burst forth in his smile and glinted in his eyes as the entire shed started to burn and catch fire, a tiny bloom of flame growing and licking up the sides , engulfing everything in a purifying orange and crimson. The creature's hair lifted upwards, as if caught in an imaginary breeze, each lock curling and undulating with an un-earthly energy. As the roof began to crumble and the blazing beams broke, the man was no more, and instead a great mass of fluttering, black birds burst into the grey sky, cawing with a guttural noise that sounded more like manic, human laughter.

Salt Peter- A drug used to calm one's libido, sort of an anti-aphrodisiac. Maxwell should have a constant supply mixed into his coffee daily...

Pouppes- Dolls or dollies an endearing French term for children. Remember, as Papa Jack, Mr. Le Chat loves his adopted children, however when the Baron takes over, love goes out the window and what the Cross Roads Man wants, he gets...

Chevalier - While it may translate to "Horseman" or "Rider", the idea of this act in Voodoo is to be possessed or "ridden" by the Gods. While in Catholicism/Judaism, Buddhism and Shintoism possession is seen as work of the Devil or evil spirits, in Voodoo, it is seen as a bridge between the human and divine world, almost like the Greek equivalent of the Oracle of Delphi. The various Loa will come into the priest's or prestress's body and give blessings, tell the future or even insight dancing and joy- or darker things. Afterwards, the person may not recall or remember the experience or what partook. The Baron possesses Jacques Le Chat and very bad things happen, causing much chaos and pain. Le Chat is just the shell for the god to manipulate and there will be a time of reckoning...


	32. Chapter 32

New Dawn Fades

_To all of our students and teachers going back to school this year ( I have the joy of being both), best of luck and keep enjoying your work, and reading others! _

Gray landscapes flashed by in silence as the train continued along its path, time hushed and seemingly endless. The Arch Bishop sat quietly, sipping a cup of coffee while skimming the paper. Integra sighed and was content to be across from the man, window watching snow drifts and trees sprawling across the countryside. While dulled in colour, she imagined it must be very lovely in spring, or in the russet haze of autumn. Enrico looked up from his arts section to gaze at the woman peering out a thousand miles out into the distance. The rich black of her muffler off-set the fair tone of her hair, and her eyes seemed brilliant against the winter pale. Maxwell noticed that when her mouth was not set in a stern line, it was smooth and very full. He could not help but to feel a small twinge of pride swell up inside himself-she was beautiful and, she was_ his_. He looked down at his near-drained beverage and rose.

"Do you want a cup of tea, or anything to eat?", he asked .

"Tea would be fine.", she replied. Enrico nodded and turned, moving to the next cab were the coffee bar was. Sir Hellsing felt a great pressure release from her chest - her 'betrothed' had not given her so much as an inch to breath all day, from office, to ticket stand, to the boarding of the train. Originally, he had sat next to her, angling close, but she shifted away order to get a 'better view ' of the scenery. She focused for a moment, eyes squeezing shut, attempting to make contact with her servant.

"_Any progress on your mission?," she inquired. A deep, velvet voice boomed, lunatic laughter filtering into her head. Apparently, the mission had gone a little too well, and Alucard was reveling in his chaos. _Integra rolled her eyes- the vampire could be a little over- enthused about his work .He was efficient, but it was going to be a hell of a time explaining this one to the public. Speaking of time, she checked her watch and reminded herself that she had been Bishop-free for almost five minutes and felt lighter than she had all morning. The hour was begging to creep up and she pulled a small, circular compact out of her bag. While most of her personal life could teeter on sheer disorder, vitamins and any pharmaceuticals were taken religiously. After almost a decade of being on these bitter, little things, she had their biological calender down flat. Just as the medication was melting on her palette, a disappointing _tisk ,_came from over her shoulder.

"Integra, Integra, the Church strongly looks down on the use of such artificial means of contraception." She swallowed hard and met the chiding gaze of Maxwell with a pair of steaming cups. She took her tea and met his eyes.

"Sir, they are not_ currently, _nor have they _ever _been used for that purpose. Certainly, the Lord approves of medical advances to aid one's self, does He not?" A bit of a sly grin picked up his lips and he leaned in .

"Getting ready for the honeymoon, then?," The woman arched her brow and spoke low.

" I would like to keep my personal reasons personal," He continued to leer and she prickled at his nearness. " I care not to hemorrhage to death every month." she hissed. Maxwell made a disgusted face and returned to his paper, flicking it open. Sir Hellsing shook her head and took a swift swig of the drink. For a whoremonger, he seemed to know little of what actually made a woman's body-or anything else for that matter- tick. Her eyes darted back to Italy's winter scape, and her imagination ran wild as to what she would find in her servant's wake when she returned.

Elsewhere- The Gardens , Maximilian Villa

The blaze had finally been controlled and the remains of the shed were still smoldering and smoking like coals in a grill. While the occurrence was odd, it was kept quiet and muted to avoid any disruption of the convention .The events of the day continued on. Several of the Villa's staff merely explained away the unpleasant event.

"Some of the structures are old, and it is not unusual for an electrical wire to come undone or spark up- metal casings can fray so badly when exposed to the elements.", an attendant casually stated. This simple explanation eased most visitors' minds, but for Angelique Le Chat, the entire scene reeked of a super-natural quality. She cursed the No-Life King under her breath and headed back to the manor ready to finish off this fool.

"_When you play with a cat, you feel claws...", _Her fists balled up in anger at her sides. How dare he destroy her alter, her place of worship, godless beast. Quickly , Mrs. Le Chat left the scene, heading deep into the catacombs, vengeance igniting her blood, determination sharpening her eyes.

Elsewhere-

Andrew carefully baited the trap, tying the remainder of his breakfast to the twine. The piece of meat and gristle glistened on the line, his ticket to salvation. Lucy and Rita were loaded and fully ready to fire. He plotted his escape from this morning; pistol-whip the priests, outwit the zombie, make his way across the garden grounds, contact the vampire, and find Integra. At noon, when his lunch was served, he would bum rush the opened door, batter his way through the guards and get the little boy off his back as quickly and humanely as possible. The silver of bacon was to distract the creature away from his own flesh; a mere minute or two would be enough to get distance and bolt for the stairs. If that failed, he may have to take out a leg with a single shot-not deep, but the knee-cap would be a good choice for immobilization. All he needed now was patience, a steady hand and a cocked pistol...

Elsewhere- Plaza Delle Art, Naples

"Just look at the brush strokes, so smooth, so rich- simply outstanding!," Maxwell commented on an oil painting of Caravaggio's musicians. Their beautiful faces seemed luminous in the painted light, and pairs of intense, dark eyes pierced out into the audience. The colours were vibrant - deep cardinal, buttery cream, and brilliant gold. Integra felt her skin chill as the Arch Bishop pressed to her side. He was a few inches taller than herself, but it felt like Enrico was nose- to- nose with her at every given moment. The East End of the Gallery was filled with beautiful, inspiring paintings and life-like sculptures from the masters of the late Rensiance, but it was almost impossible to enjoy such a wonderful place with her present company. Maxwell was in Heaven, explaining every detail and technique behind all the current works on display. Sir Hellsing was beginning to feel as if she was in a college lecture ; perhaps if he had become an art historian instead of a power-hungry politico bastard, he actually would be doing some good in the world. She felt her eyes glaze over as he prattled on, but the touch of his hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality.

"I have a few Caravaggio pieces in my room, including this one.," he stated , pointing to the left to the portrait of the "Repentant Magdalena", a splendid portrayal of the Apostle Mary Madeline in penance.

"How can you have the original if it's here in the gallery?"she asked. Enrico grinned.

"Let's just say my family was very adept at obtaining pieces after Mussolini's rein came crashing down. I can tell you that at least a quarter of the pieces here are copies- the genuine articles lay in private hands." The pair continued walking and the man stopped flat in front of the artist's rendition of Judith and Holophernes. It was amazing how such a gory scene could be made so beautiful by the play of shadow and light. Even the bright steak of crimson blood looked vibrant. The woman's beautiful face was serene as she beheaded the unsuspecting man, while her eager servant looked on.

"Such a passionate, exact portrayal of the betrayal of women..." Maxwell proclaimed. Integra suffocated her rage under a calm breath.

"Actually, she was a rather brave woman who saved her entire village with her cleverness. She practically was a general." she replied cooly.

"Brave? She seduced the man, then when he was at his weakest, destroyed him- do you call that 'brave'?"

" She still rescued her people and kept her honour- if you recall the Bible, my dear Bishop, she got him drunk on wine to the point of him unable to do much of anything. Then, she attacked him, retaining her virtue and claiming his head." The man could not help but to smile- such a spitfire, such a proud little thing- she could actually be cute when trying to be severe.

"You have no need to claim my head, _bella_,' he cooed, kissing her gloved hand."You already have by heart."

"_Oh Lord, can't something heavy fall off the walls and hit him on the head!? I'm going to vomit..." Integra thought. Why, why couldn't this man just stop talking?! At least then, she could suffer in peaceful silence... _She slipped her hand away from his mouth.

"I always preferred Artemisia's portrayal of the scene.It comes to a much more emotional climax. Also, her angle is stronger." The Bishop chuckled.

"That woman was a fair painter, but truly, she was merely in the shadows of her father her whole career- just a little girl attempting to follow in her Daddy's footsteps. She never did achieve the same level of success, for she was neither as dedicated nor talented as her predecessor ." Integra cast him an icy glare, fully aware of the double entendre in his little speech.

"I find you rather condescending, Sir." She stated as she walked ahead of him, crushing the urge to punch him in the middle of the room. Maxwell followed her quickly.

"Certainly, you don't think that I am comparing the situation to you, my dear."

"Of course not..." _Condescending, know-it-all Bastard she thought_. Her eyes remained narrow darts of aggravation. He alighted a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Come, let us go upstairs there's something I want to show you that you may find interesting." His face grew sweet, bright, like a child with a wonderful secret. Integra was unmoved. "Please.," he pleaded, eyes desperate to gain her good graces. Sir Hellsing huffed and reluctantly followed the man up a wide, winding staircase. They passed a family of tourists on their flight up, a perky mother with a tiny infant strapped to her back in a carrier ,a father reading the guide, various friends or relatives trailing behind accompanied by a small child bundled up in winter woolens. The little boy could not have been more than four, yet his gaze caught hers and his small face shot her a look of pity. As the group passed, she could not help but to overhear him ask in soft, simple German-

"_Auntie, why does that lady look so sad?" _Integra could not hear the response, but puffed out a soft breath and reminded herself that her mock display of affection and interest was buying time, precious time in order to save her family, organization and herself. If she wanted more of it, she better keep a cheery face on...

The second story of the place was divided into two categories; large-scale oil paintings, some almost spanning the entirety of the walls, and a smaller section for crafts and objects of art. The Arch Bishop grasped her hand and led her into the galleries to the left. A lone security gaud nodded a hello and stood quiet and still as the pair beheld the exhibit. Behind thick, glass cases, a metallic history of the world sparkled and gleamed. These were the treasurers of Europe and the Far East, a thousand years of craftsmanship for all to behold. African gold and Oriental silver from the farthest corners of Tibet lay across pallets of rich velvet. Breath-taking articles of glass and precious stones, enamel and ivory- anything glorious that could be forged by human hands was present, glowing with a life of their own. A spectacular diamond necklace from 18th Century France, once belonging to Madame Du Barry, shimmered like a thousand captive stars. The radiant display of glimmer and colour caught Sir Hellsing's eye, and even in her present state, she still managed to have wonder edge into her.

"It's beautiful." she said. Enrico pulled her close.

"Over here, there are treasure's from my family's estate." He led her a bit further down; in the third and fourth display case, an array of religious items forged of gold and rare stones occupied the space. A massive, golden crucifix studded with pearls and rich crimson enamel took center stage, the Corpus of Christ studded with myriads of tiny rubies to emulate His wounds. Next to it, a dozen or so rings of various elaborate design were present. Some were crested with deep-hued stones and intricate lattice bridge work, while another possessed a massive cabochon emerald as large as a robin's egg. A more unusual piece represented the opened mouth of a lion, housing a piece of pink quartz between it's jaws, while a Cardinal's holy ring sat beside it.

"These were some of the heirlooms from Spain that my family brought over, lovely aren't they?" he beamed. The woman nodded in agreement. However, it appeared that a few were missing from their designated spots.

"What happened to these over here?," Integra inquired

"Funny you should ask..." Maxwell nodded to the guard who exited, then closed the door and locked it. For a moment, Integra felt worried- what on earth was he going to try and pull now? He dug into the left pocket of his coat and pulled out a small, satin box.

"I wanted to give you something special, something that no other woman in the world would have.," he proclaimed. Carefully, he opened it, revealing a huge, ruby ring, deep in colour, flanked by two round, flawless diamonds. The gem was tear-shaped, well over two karats, and glistened like a huge drop of blood in the overhead lights.

"Originally, I wanted a sapphire to match your eyes, but this has a rich history- it was given to my great- grandmother by my name-sake, and they had a very long, very happy marriage, exactly what I want with you..." He began to peel off her left glove. While she wanted to pull away in protest, she could not. Integra could only stand dumb and motionless-it was as if this was not real, a scene played out in a drama or movie. She felt the metal cool against her skin and the gaudy piece settled against her finger. Her hand felt heavy, trapped.

"Thank you.", she managed, soft and even. Her 'fiancé' looked over joyed and pulled her chin up for a kiss. His lips touched hers, and while he shut his eyes in bliss, Integra stayed as still as stone, her heart just as hard. For authenticity 's sake, she kissed him back lightly, though her mouth stayed shut and held his shoulders, keeping her hands from wandering too close to his neck out of fear of cracking the facade with a vicious action. He broke the intimacy and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Tonight, come to my room, see the Magdalene with your own eyes and stay just a little while." He whispered, breath warm against her face.

"Fine.", she replied. Time was ticking by and tonight she would see_ Judith_, not Mary...

Caravaggio- An early 16th century painter who did some of the most beautiful and scandalous religious paintings of the time. He was a drunkard, a gambler, a bi-sexual swinger who had his fare share of ill repute and is even rumoured to be a murder and got a way with it. ... Kind of sounds like a "Sopranos" character, doesn't he? His work is sensual, rich and is a break from the more lovely classical pieces of the time- he is considered the 'anti-Michelangelo' , even though many compared his style of anatomy and Classical subject matter to his. His rendition of "Judith" is violent and passionate, much like the artist himself. He was also very well-known for putting the bodies and likenesses of his numerous lovers in his work. When a relationship went sour, he portrayed the severed head of his un- amicable EX in the rendering of "David with the Head of Goliath"-talk about bitter...

Artemisia Gentileschi- A famous, yet often unsung female artist of the mid 1600's. She was the daughter of Orazio Getileschi, a classical painter, who totally backed his daughter in spite of the severe sexism of the time. She was best known for her Biblical and Classical portrayals of women, including "Judith". Her females are strong, beautiful and are ususally extracting revenge upon male evil-doers. . However, her life was not without drama- she was never quite taken seriously due to the times and her gender and in 1611, she was brutally raped by her mentor, the painter Agostino Tussi, a well-known artist and a close friend of her father. In 1612, a well recorded trial ensued, but it was Artemisa who was blamed and even tortured to see if she was lying about the attack. She managed to get on with her life, married and even continued painting well into her age. Unfortunately, Enrico would have totally sided with Tassi and would have been glad to apply the thumbscrews...

Bridge- Area of a ring where the metal meets the finger.

Cabochon- A rounded cut for stones or glass in jewelry making that is great for large stones or for making the colour of a stone appear richer.


	33. Chapter 33

Blue Monday

He sat quietly, eyes glancing over a local news paper with a still-warm cup of coffee at his side. The room was silent, save for the occasional hum of the radiator or the subtle tick of the clock on the wall, pacing time slowly and evenly. Mr. Le Chat never noticed them as they scurried through the crack in the door, each tiny monster rushing inwards, multiplying at an alarming rate. Dozens upon dozens of little, black spiders covered the floor like a living carpet, their red eyes glowing, shimmering in the dark. Jacques never even batted an eye as they merged and towered, taking shape of a man in a black suit with a wild shock of hair; he merely sipped his café and folded his hands calmly on his lap.

"Don't I have to invite you in, old man?" , he asked the shadow-figure as it drew close . A pair of ruby orbs glared into his own eyes. His death had come calling.

"I should cut you down where you stand, right now.,"the creature hissed. Jacques laughed a bit and rustled his newspaper down.

"Why not? We have fought before, vampire, what is holding you back now?" The man leaned into the table, angular face just mere inches from Le Chat's cool gaze.

"Because right now, you are yourself, a sane man. I should at least give you the chance to explain why you are in league with Maxwell before your demise." The man did not flinch, nor bend away from the piercing gaze, but confronted the creature face to face.

"When I was a younger, less experienced man in Haiti, the church supported my family, my first wife, and the handful of children that we had begun to save off the streets of Prince -Au -Port and the surrounding mountain towns. I was still learning the secrets of priesthood in my faith, when one night during an early divination, I went mad. The Baron possessed me and drove me to murder my Clarice and my wards. The blood lust spread and many more lives were claimed.," He looked down at his fingers, inter- locked into each other. "An agent from Iscariot came in to quell the riot taking place, and a deal was struck for my survival; I would be called upon from time to time to do favours for the Bishop in return for my life and the continuation of the orphanage. "

"How long ago was this?," Alucard inquired.

"Ten Years. I never once looked back, one can only move forwards, but now, I know what _he _is doing and I feel sick.," Ebony brows arched in question.

"You take blood money, curse my household, and manipulate those closest to you -", Jacques turned violently to him.

"I don't give a good God-damn about what the Bishop wants with your household or your woman, but I don't want to spill my own blood! I don't have any control any more over what the Baron wants and He _wants _le petite angeles right now- there is nothing I can do about that! " A taloned hand closed in around the man's throat, tightening against flesh and muscle. His breath became strained and mouth set in a hard line, his eyes were weighted with guilt. "I deserve to die , for this, for her. Just speed the plow, old man." A moment paused on the clock.

"If I kill you now, this ends:" the vampire whispered, the tip of his nose brushing against Mr. Le Chat's, "But, if I do that, then we won't have any clue to how the Baron can aid us with the returning of the little souls now, can we?,"

" I'm not sure that He even can-why do you care?," he sputtered.

"Even in all my years before and after my earthly rule, I never preyed on children- that's for the weak, the dishonourable. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth-your work and blood will cleanse it. " Alucard released his grasp. Deep, bronze eyes mirrored understanding.

"Vampire, I have a favour to ask you When my time comes, do it quick, and not in front of Angelique." Alucard released the man, and curtly nodded his head.

" Fine. We begin the ending tonight, then."

Elsewhere-

He had been listening to the noise and motion outside his door for almost twenty minutes now. One of the guards had left for the bathroom, leaving the hallway open. However, it was just as the lunch hour was approaching and if Andrew could muster just a little more patience, it would be a flawless plan with much less resistance. He silenced his own thoughts and pressed his eager ear to the door. Steps. They grew closer , even in pacing, and he could make out a little tune being hummed softly. Stealthy as a stalking cat, Lord Hellsing poised to the right of the door, Rita in hand, Lucy at his side, ready to strike out a blow in order to make his escape. Slowly, the door handle turned and the portal cracked open. He was just out of the line of sight as the figure started their entrance. A young nun with glasses and black , shoulder-length hair balanced a tray on one hand and began to take a look inside the room.

"Hello, is anyone in here? I brought you some...!?" Her introduction was cut short by Lord Hellsing clamping a hand around her mouth and the other around her torso . With a clatter, the lid of the tray fell to the ground, off-balancing the contents, forcing them to follow , a cup of tea and thick soup showering the carpet. The girl released surprised yelps, quieted by Andrew's hand.

"Shhhh," he calmed. He kept the Colt Pistol angled low, near to her side, but away from her body; he did not want to risk the gun going off and accidentally injuring the girl.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but please, you have to listen to- OUCH!!" Sharp teeth scissored down on his pointer and middle finger. He pulled his bitten hand away as an elbow jammed into his side.

"Get off me!," the young woman yelled. Andrew shut the door and attempted to take hold of her shoulders.

"Sister, you are making a real problem out of this! Listen, I need your help, I-" She swung a left hook at his jaw, which Andrew barely missed. The girl kept swinging, her aim getting closer and closer He had no time for games or play fighting, so he quickly grasped her wrists with one, deft motion, pinning her to the wall. She released a little eekk and scrunched up her eyes.

"Now that you've calmed a bit, please, for the third time,_ listen._" Lord Hellsing panted. He wasn't quite sure if the nun was really paying attention to him, her face was scrunched up and she appeared to be hyperventilating. "Sister, I need to get out of here and go back to the -" The woman's eyes snapped open, even through her spectacles, a bright, piecing gaze appeared as sharp as a razor and brittle as thin glass.

"Get your hands off me, you stinking Heathen.," she growled. Bloody Hell!? One minute ago she was squeaking, now she sounded like something out of "The Exorcist!" Her teeth bared into a grimace and the sister smashed the front of her forehead into the bridge of Andrew's nose. It crunched, and the Hellsing Heir felt blood flow freely, spurting from his nostrils. He leapt back with a cry, pain filtering up through his sinuses, but it did not slow his reaction too much. Quickly, he raised his gun and cracked the muzzle of it into the side of her temple-not hard enough to do severe damage, but the sudden shock sent the woman back a few feet away from him, the blow sending her glasses flying. As she maneuvered to her left, she kicked out her leg into the side of his knee, knocking him off balance and to the ground. Rita flew from his hands and skidded across the rug. Within seconds, she dove and straddled him, pinning his hands to the floor, crazed eyes burrowing into his, panting .

"You think that you can get away with touching an assassin from Section XIII, you Protestant Pig?! How dare you! Do you know who the Hell you've dealing with?? A daughter of the most noble Hishiro Makimoto, the Yakuza Sword Master. "

"I don't give a damn if your father's the bloody _Post Master_-get off me!" The man shifted his weight and reversed their positions, but accidentally instead of pushing down on her shoulder, his hands brushed against her bosom. The sister let out a gasp and turned scarlet. Andrew fumbled and felt flustered himself.

"Sorry, it's just you keep squirming and I , um, oh Hell!" The enraged woman fought back , desperately attempting to snatch the other Colt from his hip. From a distance , the rolling pair appeared as if they were attempting to become lovers, rather than playing a potentially deadly game of grab- the -gun.

"Let go!," she snarled, attempting to choke him with his tie.

"Stop this- I have to save my family!" he gasped, grabbing her waist to push her off. They tumbled and covered each other. Yumiko scraped his chin with sharp nails, while Andrew yanked on a chunk of hair, pulling her head sharply . She shrieked, and cursed at him in violent Japanese, returning to the dominant position, grasping at his throat.

"My cousin's in danger!" he growled.

"What the Hell are you ranting about- who?"

"Sir Integra- Maxwell's planning to force her into marriage and the villa into the grave." The odd combination of words got the attention of the berserker nun. She paused and looked down at him, mid-strangle. Andrew caught his breath and continued.

"The Bishop, he's a monster, he's trying to rape my cousin and he's responsible for all the missing children!" Yumiko's hands dropped, and her cheeks paled.

"What are you talking about?",

"Maxwell is using the children for scientific experiments . I was there in Switzerland. I saw the lab, and the zombies-"

"Zombies? That's impossible ! There are no vampires here except for Alucard and he hasn't bitten anyone..."

"NO! Not ghouls, _zombies_, like the voodoo, ritual types." She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware of the difference." Andrew looked up into her face; the rage had begun to wane and her deep, grey eyes were calming.

"Where is Maxwell right now?," She shrugged.

"He said something about going to Naples for a day trip, but he should be back for tonight, there's the concert and supper." She crawled around on the floor and retrieved her wire-rimmed glasses. Andrew began to pick himself up and wipe the blood out from under his nose. The little nun produced a tissue from her pocket and gave it to him.

"Here, clean yourself up-I can't stand the sight of blood." He took the offering and mopped up the mess. "What should we do now?" she asked.

Lord Hellsing picked up Rita and made his way to the door, gesturing for her to follow.

"We need to get back to the Main Villa as soon as possible, get the documentation, and bring him down. Stick close, and if you see anything move in the shadows of this place, _run quick._"

Elsewhere - The Private Bedchamber of Enrico Antonio Cervantes Maximilian-

The trip had been a delightful success; the train ride relaxing , the galleries magnificent , and she had accepted the ring as an engagement present. The Arch Bishop was practically purring with contentment all the way home. Integra was quiet , strangely quiet, but Maxwell just attributed this state to the fact that she was overwhelmed and perhaps going over her mental state of transformation, from cold-hearted dictator of the Hellsing Organization, to warm, loving wife. After all, it would only be natural for a woman to contemplate her new role with depth and insight. He also hoped that it would make her contemplate _other _martial duties, such as rutting on the sofa in his boudoir , or indulging in whatever else her dear husband-to-be desired this upcoming evening. But, at the moment, he was content to lounge on the divan near the window and wait for his _bella_ to come out of the toilette. She had been in there an awfully long time- whatever did women do in front of the mirror?

"_I'm going to fucking strangle that arrogant, aggravating little sot!" Sir Hellsing hissed. Her hands griped the brass faucets violently as she peered into the clear pane of mirror glass and into the face of her servant. "I have never, ever been so angry in my life! "_

"_Language, "Alucard reminded her,"You are a Daughter of Nobility and Regal Blood, don't curse like a sailor." _

"_Toss Off!!," she snapped in return. As much as he adored her, his master was scary when riled. _She pulled off her gloves and attempted to yank off the trinket from her finger-it wouldn't budge. Alucard's sharp eyes examined the piece.

"_Dear Lord, it's huge, and hideous! Is he trying to compensate for something?" _

"_I don't know, nor do ever to I care to find out! Dammit- it's stuck!" She continued to tug, only reddening her digit. _

"_Here, let me.," her vampire stated, reaching his hand and upper body through the glass, attempting to loosen the ring. " Hold still.," _

"_OUCH!!," _

"_Sorry, your hand is swelling, so you may just have to wear it for a few more hours and try later." His master looked cross. _

"_Try now."_ A harsh pull only twisted the band against her skin harder. Integra released a yelp of pain that attracted unwanted attention from the outside.

"Darling, are you alright?," the Bishop's voice asked.

"Best leave it for now.," Sir Hellsing whispered. "Tonight, where am I meeting you?"

"I'll be with Le Chat in the catacombs around eleven. If it appears to be too dangerous or a trap, I will contact you." Quickly, she pressed her lips to his and he vanished through the mirror. Composing herself, the woman re-clothed her hands, smoothed her hair, and opened the door. Enrico looked at her with a mix of concern and confusion.

"Is there something you wanted?," she asked cooly.

"You sounded like you were in pain, are you still feeling ill from the other day?"

" A little- just womanly issues.," she curtly stated.

_"Hmm, Perhaps she was not lying about the pills after all" he thought. _

"If it persists, I have a family physician we could go to." Integra patted his head, and brushed past him, heading for the table to gather up her things. Like a persistent puppy, he followed.

"The children are performing tonight after supper, I was hoping that we could attend the concert together. "

"Fine, _dear_." The word felt heavy on her tongue. He continued babbling, his excitement growing.

" Oh, and there 'll be an afternoon of classical violin in the Piazza and then the masked ball tomorrow evening with the commencing ceremonies for the convention. Then we can have Christmas like a proper family. "

"Fine." she stated, picking up her handbag, A slender arm encircled her waist and pulled her to him. Integra blushed at his nearness.

"Later, come back up, let me show you some...etchings in the bedroom." he purred. "You can finally see the painting, too." She stepped a foot ahead, out of his hands.

"I w ill see you at supper sir, good day." with that she left, silently cursing him under her breath. Here it was, practically Christmas and Integra was almost completely out of patience- she would have to ask Father Christmas some, and a brand new Glock...


	34. Chapter 34

Behind Closed Doors

Holidays are a funny time of year. During the 'normal' pace of the calender, celebrations are looked upon as an uplifting change of routine, a chance to rejoice and revel in the moment. However, when the happy time arrives, the amount of stress, planing, and accompanying anxiety can make one crave just another, ordinary day. Father Anderson was beginning to wish that it was December 26th, no offense meant to the Beloved Lord Jesus, nor his sainted Mother and Father, but he was overwhelmed. There were to be two masses, one on Christmas Eve at Midnight and the other on the actual day itself. While that was standard, there was also the sector of Jewish attendees who deserved some resemblance of a Chanukah celebration, ( The holiday had already passed, but a showing of good grace was needed) as well as the children's concert was in preparation for this evening. The priest took a deep breath- the choir still needed one, final rehearsal to polish them off for the audience. Anderson had looked for Sister Yumiko, but she was nowhere to be found; both of them had the stage to set and complete in addition to collecting the presents and cards for the children, so that they could receive them after the performance.

"Where the Hell could she have gone off ta?", he muttered to himself. The Le Chat family and staff still had no sign of the missing Estelle boy- perhaps she was continuing the search for him. With the boy now gone almost a day-and-a-half , the police would have to be called in, though that might cause some problems. Wearily, the man sighed and looked down at the thick folder of paperwork in his hand. A brief note from Maxwell was sandwiched inside asking him to look up some documents on the Rosa Maria Contract, by today, no later. With everything else going on, why in the world did this ancient thing appeal to him so much right now? Deep in the back of his brain, Anderson had a theory, but his common sense squelched it. The Contract permitted marriage, a union between a Catholic Clergyman and a noble woman...

"_He can't be that daft to try and pair up with the Protestant Knight... or is he? ! " he thought. _The result would end in either one of two ways; castration before death, or death before castration- both were rather unpleasant images, so the good Father quickly banished them out of his mind He turned his attentions to the small list in his pocket of the children's gifts and last minute requests. His heart still ached for a moment when he saw Paul's name and prayed that the lad would indeed be returned safe and sound.

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor

The training had been rigorous , even by the Wild Geese's standards. From late morning, Captain Ari had been guiding the men on how to immobilize an attacking zombie with minimal damage to either party. By using various techniques borrowed from Ju-Jitsu and re-directing energy from a Reki-like series of pressure points, the adversary could be calmed.

"Jeeze, isn't it easier just to shoot them?," Christophe commented to Seras. She shook her head in disapproval at her friend.

"Remember, we don't want to kill them, they're NOT ghouls." The Indian Captain shot her a quieting look. The vampire silenced herself and nodded-this was not a time for talking amongst comrades.

"So, we will go over the 'Crane-Bending-to-the-Heavens' grasps one more time." Ari boomed. "Captain! Are you ready?" A weak-sounding "noooooo" came up from the corner to his left. Captain Bernadette had offered his services in training, but did not envision himself to become an example. He had been pinched, punched, pummeled and pinned for the past hour or so, feeling like a dishrag.

"Come on, old chap, you can surely go one more round?" the Frenchman shook his head pathetically.

"Here, I'll stand in for him." Seras suggested. Her Captain flashed her a mental warning.

"_Go easy on him, girl. Easy!"_ She shot him a little, knowing glance and continued. The pair sized each other up and prepared to spar.

"Now, young lady, come in and try to put your arms around my neck." The young vampire lunged, and in spite of his round, little body, Captain Ari dodged quickly and continued moving with all the speed of a cricket on a hot grill.

"Come now, you can be quicker! We are fighting, not dancing", he teased. Seras did not like someone getting the better of her with training- she had to put up with enough of it from her Master and even more so from her comrades. She began to get irked; all of the man's bobbing and weaving was starting to aggravate her. As Ari veered to her left, Seras sped up to an inhuman speed and grasped him around the collar, pulling him into her so rapidly, that he did not have time to react. She shot him a look of triumph and bared her little fangs a bit too broadly.

"Got you.," she whispered, half sounding like a cross between a hiss and a purr. Ari's eyes grew wide as saucers and for a moment the mercenary actually looked scared. Seras began to release her hold and backed away a step. For the enlisted Hellsing men and Geese, this display of her vampirc nature was nothing new, but to the Maharajas, it was very unsettling. Ari took a moment to compose himself and made a suggestion to the crowd.

"How about we take a break, gentlemen?," The crowd dispersed and his gaze washed over the girl for a moment before he turned away. Seras shrugged, and made her way over to her Captain who was seated cross-legged in the corner.

"Brava- I think you scared the crap out of him.," Pip commented and she aided in pulling him up.

"Sorry, it's just I needed to stop him from all that jumping around - it was starting to trigger some really intense hunting reflexes." The Captain smirked.

"So what are you now, a cat?' He began to scratch behind her right ear. She good- naturedly pushed him away.

"If I start bringing you and Master home birds, then yes, I'm a kitty." Pip smiled. Ah , she was such a cute, little thing- potentially deadly, but cute.

"Right now, all I need is a spot of water," he flipped his tangled, matted braid over his shoulder." Can you help wash it?"

"Sure." He flashed her a hopeful grin.

"In the shower, please ?" Her crimson eyes narrowed.

"Okay, kitchen sink it is, then..."

Elsewhere-

As the water splashed down his back, the Bishop took a deep breath and inhaled the fragrant steam. The essence of sandalwood and amber drifted off the soap and lingered on his skin and hair, while the heat eased his tense shoulders and strained neck. The expensive shampoo filtered up orange blossom and cloves, a mouth-watering scent that he had favoured for years, but it left him empty. He would have preferred lavender and _her_ right now. It would be lovely to have her slender fingers working a smooth lather through his hair and soft palms running down his back and thighs. Nothing like being squeaky clean before getting slick and heated... Enrico balled up his fist and pounded it against the tile in frustration.

He was trying, Lord how he was trying to patient with her, but tonight, perhaps he could lure her in, finally shedding off her virgin's veil for an evening of lace, or silk or even just a coating of warm water and frothy bubbles. A bath would be a heavenly idea; soft, sensual, and the tub was certainly big enough for two...The scenario played out in his head;a few glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, candle light making her flesh glow gold, the water splashing over her breasts, and spilling over the tub's sides from their actions. She would gasp and cry out for him, professing love and want and desire. He would be tender, gentle, taking her in fully and slowly, until all he could feel was the heat of the steam and beat of her heart. Thoughts twisted and churned in his head and his blood pulsed fiercely. Everything was going so well, almost_ too _well, but he still had the upper hand. The contents of the chemicals were still concealed on the premises and her cousin was secured for good measure.

The only thing that was not under his thumb was that cursed vampire. The unholy beast had not made an appearance for a few days now, but his presence was still there, like a hidden infestation of vermin in the walls. Perhaps, his master had told him of the situation and warned him not to interfere. A simple, realistic idea, but he knew this monster; he burned for her, desired her, and would stop at nothing to obtain what he wanted-they shared a similar philosophy. No matter, he held the reins and would be roping in the English mare. A smile spread over his features as he wondered just how hot Integra liked her bath.

Elsewhere-

The cool compress over her eyes was extremely soothing as the calm bath surrounded Sir Hellsing, quelling her mood. Lavender and rose oil made the tub an English Garden in the middle of winter. Her hair fanned out in the water like exotic fins on a tropical fish, the last bits of soap wrung out of it. A thick layer of creamy bubbles floated over her body, clinging to every crevice; she was beginning to feel like sponge cake with vanilla frosting.

"_You know I prefer chocolate.," a smooth voice teased. _

"_Don't even think about coming in here right now...the scrub-brush could be easily turned into a steak " Integra countered. _She pulled the damp cloth away from one eye to check and see if her servant had crept into the bathroom_. _

"_Wouldn't dare dream of it, especially with the mood you're in. However, I can give you a back rub when you get out." _

"_Thank you." _The woman settled back into her bath, content for the moment. Later on, she rinsed , rose, and re-dressed in a cotton tank top and cozy pyjama pants. She wrapped her hair in a thick towel and proceeded out to be greeted by a hot cup of tea, a plate of wafers, and her vampire sitting on the bed with a small bottle of lotion. Silently, she sat, back turned to him and allowed him to dab a bit of the fragrant salve on her shoulders and upper back; it smelled light and green, like ivy or clover. Long, even strokes brushed over her arms, kneading into biceps and forearms. A soft, subtle sigh of pleasure escaped from her as Alucard thoroughly massaged her palms; this creature could be so considerate when he wanted to be. He paused for a moment and held her hand up to the light. The ring glittered, fragmenting rainbows across her cheek.

"It is a beautiful piece, I can sense that it has a rich history behind it. ' he said.

"It's a symbol of bloody ownership.," Integra flatly replied. Slowly, her vampire raised her right hand, his finger-nail brushing along the signet ring.

"What of this? Is this a symbol of ownership, too?"

"That was given to me as an heirloom, a reminder of who I am, and my duty to my family, faith, and country. My Father gave this to me in love. " Sir Hellsing retracted her left hand and tapped the enormous ruby. "The poor ring is innocent enough, it's just the thought of its current benefactor makes me ill." The creature leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"And what shall I give to you as a token of my affections? Something gold, silver, or platinum? " Integra stretched out long fingers and caressed his temple.

"Loyalty. " she replied,"and you can finish my neck if you wish." Alucard bared his canines in an eager grin. The woman tapped a reprimanding pointer on his lips.

"I meant with the massage." Alucard pouted, but returned to his dutiful actions. Controlled pressure trailed down the tense sections of neck and upper back., the gesture taking on a rhythmic quality smoothing the strained muscles. The towel was plucked away allowing her hair to flow freely over she shoulders and down her back. A bit of the cream was rubbed through, light fingers dancing along her scalp and the back of her neck. For a moment, the woman felt herself go limp.

"Keep this up and I'll fall asleep...," she murmured. The length of the day was catching up with her as Integra realized just how much walking she had done in Florence. Images of all of the awe-inspiring works channeled from her inner thoughts to her servant's mind; the intricate jewelry, majestic paintings, and finely-chiseled sculptures.

"_I wish that you could have been with me." she thought. _Darker worries still filtered in and out of her skull and despite a more relaxed demeanor, her anxiety was firmly present. What if the ruse was blown tonight or during the Christmas party? What if they were already too late to do anything about the zombie contamination? The vampire eased his master down to the bed, brushing her cheeks with light kisses.

"_There will be plenty of time for that in the future- hush, your mind is racing._" Another feeling stirred up in the pit of Alucard's stomach; the presence of another member of the family was closing in. He was not sure if Lord Andrew had been sent over, or if he was taken by force to the villa, but his distinct aura was picking up his skin and making the seals on his stomach and hands itch. Immediately, he blocked that discovery out of his thoughts- he did not need Integra to be further upset. As her mental curiosity began to probe the swirl of thoughts and images, he clamped his mouth down on hers and she responded with adore. Her hands pulled at the collar of his shirt and her mouth latched on to the skein of his throat, the pale skin pulsing with surprised arousal.

"_Make me forget today,"she demanded. _Like any good servant, he obliged his master fully until their actions left her breathless. Gently, he placed her left ring finger in his mouth and pricked the tip of it with a saber-sharp fang. Her blood, as light and sweet as plum wine beaded against his tongue.

"You are so greedy.," she chided as he lapped up the spill from her digit. The tone turned from playful to the harsh, as the edge of hunger settled in . Alucard sealed the small cut and continued to press his mouth along the smooth, lined flesh of her palm and licked the delicate structure of her wrist. A desire flashed into his mind, one that he had never dare request before. With the upcoming confrontation, he was going to need as much strength as possible.

"Master," he asked, a more than just a little nervous.

"Yes?," He began to rub the tip of his nose against the rich copper of her skin. The scent of ivy and virgin's blood was intoxicating, making his head and heart toss and swirl against reason. Her neck would be too much to ask for, but perhaps...

"Please, can I take just a little from here?," His voice trailed off into a hush of heat and velvet, lips brushing against the intricate pattern of veins, like bright blue branches against a sunburnt sky. Integra flushed.

"Go easy, I may not be able to wear gloves for a day. Make the cut a little one." A kiss alighted her palm.

"_I want to use my mouth._.." _he mentally purred."I'll be gentle," he promised."The first time always hurts, just a little, but I'll make sure to compensate you, my master._" Sir Hellsing's heart fluttered and her body began to shake as he lapped his curled tongue over the predetermined spot. The last time a vampire had punctured her flesh with its fangs, it had all the appeal of a brutal assault, but this was completely different; it felt like an invitation to love-making. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath Her response was a passing gasp against her lips.

"_Yes_." Tenderly, the vampire's mouth wrapped around the sensitive flesh, sinking his teeth in on an angle with the precision of a surgeon and the grace of a feline. She released a small cry of pain, but it soon eased into a sigh as his warmth seemed to flow into her own being , igniting her blood The surrounding world seemed to intensify; she could feel the beating of his heart like a wild drum, smell his hair, deep and rich as ancient incense, and the tension between his hips was overwhelming. His passions were being held back by a fine thread, and as the feeding progressed, so were hers. His fingertips traced over the tissue-thin cloth of her shirt, teasing and caressing her breasts, before slipping under and making the master moan. She longed for his mouth to be other places than her wrist ; her hair was now not the only thing damp at this point. Alucard's grip on her wrist became tighter and the teeth felt like ivory razors in her skin.

"_Ease up._," she commanded as she felt herself go a bit light-headed and the pleasure began to enter into an uneasy pain. _"Please, stop_." Fear lit those words incandescent. Gently, the servant retracted his teeth and closed the wound with a few, fluttering licks. He pressed the throbbing palm to his lips and sighed, the flush of climax in his cheeks.

"Thank you."The entire scene was spinning through Integra's head- she could not focus on the room swirling around her, nor rise up from her reclining position. Her vampire merely shifted his weight firmly on top of her and asked very sweetly what she wanted in return for her kindness- sanguine, sex, or sleep. She chose the later and Alucard pecked her quickly, relieved that her exhaustion would leave her safely in her room-or so he thought...


	35. Chapter 35

Guilty Partner

A dull throb in her left wrist prompted Integra to open her eyes. Slowly, she sat up, and looked around, scanning the room for her servant. He had long since gone, but left the pot of tea and untouched plate of cookies. Sir Hellsing examined her wounds; the pin-prick marks were only slightly raised, but pulpy red, two dark cherries against copper . Carefully, she ran a fingertip over them-they were sealed, but stung. A bit of ointment would ease the ache.

"Looks like it's long sleeves tonight," she said to herself as she washed up and bandaged the marks. Her stomach growled and she still felt a bit dizzy, her attention turning to the cooling tea and vanilla wafers. She grabbed a few and quickly ate, easing the light feeling in her head. Her day was not completed by a long shot; the concert was in about forty minutes and any moment, the Bishop could be at her door. She started to dress, reminding herself to carefully pack a gun and additional bullets for later on in the night.

Elsewhere- The Catacombs

The splitting of wood cut through the deathly silence as the axe came down again and again with vicious force. Her long, blonde tendrils flew freely about her face, and her usually cool, blue-grey eyes burned like sulfur. Angelique threw her weight into each strike, cleaving the blade into ebony wood. However, in spite of her valiant efforts, every time the wood split, the casing seemed to re-knit itself , sealing up the damage. She cursed and dug the tool in almost to the hilt - a few mere cracks surfaced, it was like chipping away at the Wall of China with a chisel. Nervous skulls chattered around her like magpies.

"_Ah, stop this nonsense!," _one exclaimed,"_The vampire will kill you!"_

"_Don't' touch his grave!,_" another pleaded. Angelique paid no head to these annoying, little spirits and continued her task. A warning echoed up from her feet , a broken skull chided her.

"_You'll be sorry_..." Mrs. Le Chat scowled at it and punted it away with her foot. She raised the axe again and smashed downwards.

Elsewhere- The Conservatory

Nervous chattering, laughter and the chords of , "Christmas in Killarney" started to pound on the piano.

"ALRIGHT!," a pleasant, but determined voice boomed. " We're goni' ta go over these last two songs, get dressed right quick and get on tha' stage by no later than seven-thirty, are we ready?" the priest asked. While his musical skills were amateurish at best, Father Anderson took to the role of substitute music teacher as well as he could. There was no sign of Sister Yumiko all bloody afternoon and it left him with no choice but to continue the show without her. His gut churned with the idea that perhaps Maxwell was starting a love nest of some sort; A Japanese Sister, a German-English Virgin, and an Italian Novice- what was this , the World Axis harem?! His fingers pounded in frustration down on the keys, as he wanted to personally spank the man as he did when he was a naughty child. However, he could not let these little ones down- they had worked so hard and wanted this so badly. They deserved their chance to showcase their abilities. He went into the gating rhythm of the song and focused on the next line of music, the notes seemed to jump a bit too much for his liking, but he was merely playing the piece, not re-composing it. Besides, the exercise in concentration kept his mind of the request the Arch Bishop had stated this afternoon -

"_Tomorrow night, after the ball, you will not be performing the Midnight Mass, but come to my office for assistance with some contracts.We will then go down to the Sacred Rose where I will need a witness, and a blessing." He merely stood and looked at the man curiously. "Oh, and Father Anderson, please bring a copy of the New Testament , and Sacramental wine."_

Lord Almighty, he really was planning to marry the Hellsing Heir. Something was dreadfully wrong; that woman could barely stand to be in the same room with him never mind agreeing to marry him. He must be holding something very nasty over her head to have her agree to this union. The scheme reeked of power-mongering.

"_Once again, the Bishop uses the Church for his own purposes rather than HIS." Andrew thought bitterly. _While he refused to feel too much sympathy for the Protestant, she did not deserve to be tied into this web. Maxwell may have learned the letter of the law, he knew nothing of its spirit. While '_treason_' would be too harsh a word to describe how Anderson would de-bunk this plan , '_tampering' _seemed to be the perfect fit...

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor.

With no word from Lord Andrew, the entire family was put on edge. The troops were anxious and even the Maharajahs expected to hear the worst . Edward kept his emotions calm, though his fear swirled underneath, like a frozen river concealing whirlpools. Lady Emma was worried, yet bore her fears with a graceful faith.

"He has been in much worse situations than this." she stated. "I'm sure that he will come home, with Integra, safe and sound." It was his wife that truly had the hardest time.

"I feel like I shouldn't even be performing tonight.", she said tearfully. Seras aided her in the zipping up of her dress, a lovely diaphanous , peach gown that resembled a Roman toga ,with wide panels of fabric trailing over her shoulders like a cape. Meena wiped her watery eyes, smearing her make-up. The little vampire dabbed a tissue over them, and gently reassured her.

"There, there, Miss. I'm sure Master Andrew can take care of himself. He'll be home with the whole family before you even know it. You've got a huge audience tonight, so I suggest a nice, calming breath and a clear mind." The woman inhaled deeply, released slowly, and squeezed Seras' hand.

"Thank you.", she said after a few moments. The vampire left her to finish her hair , and paced back to the barracks. As much as she longed to go out and see the Christmas Concert, with the current situation, she thought it best to stay in for the night. After all, without her master present, she was the only supernatural being in the manor. If any attacks were to take place, she could bare up the front line without taking too much damage. The lower areas of the barracks bristled with uneasy energy. A few Indian soldiers sat around smoking cigarettes, while a handful of enlisted Hellsing men played cards. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, but the atmosphere now felt anything but festive. Seras sighed and pulsed out a mental question .

"_Honey, are you down here?,"_ Nothing. Either asleep or out, the Frenchman's presence could not be felt. _"Bloody Hell." she cursed and made her way back up to the kitchen. _She plopped down in the rear,near the servant's tables and pillowed her chin against her fist. The night was going to be long and though she understood her duty fully, it would have been nice to get a chance to go out and celebrate like a family.

"Excuse me, Miss?," a young voice asked. The creature looked up to see the wide, inquisitive eyes of Adam, the young butler-in-training. "Have you come upstairs for supper, Miss Victoria? "

"Oh, it's a bit early for me, but thanks anyway."

"Would you like a mug of hot coco while you're waiting? Mr. Dornez told me that you usually get a cuppa with milk and B Positive, is that right?" Seras could not help but smile; the request would usually have set most people into fits of disgust, but some of the staff could be very considerate for household members _special tastes_. She grinned showing the tips of her fangs,

"That would be lovely-thank you."

Elsewhere- The Gardens of Maximilian Villa

Alucard felt ill to his stomach as the stench hit him, a wave of nausea threatening to gag him and spill out the blood from his gullet. To the mortal nose, there was no scent, no scent at all coming up from the great, stone fountain before him But, underneath the soil, mold, and the subtle essence of limestone, a great, dark putrid smell rose up. It surrounded the structure, seeping into the frozen ground. Within the pool of the fountain, was only water, frozen solid by the weather, but the source of the stink came from under the pool. The vampire took out his Jackal, aimed the massive pistol at the base and blew a hole clean through the bottom of the marble. A foul liquid gushed out, viscous and light green in colour, producing a thick steam that rose up from the earth like fumes from Hades. He waited until most of the stuff had pooled out on the ice before igniting it. The liquid burned like kerosene or oil, but the statues of the triumphant angel and her beasts stayed intact, lit brilliant amber by the glow. Silent, empty eyes watched as flames flickered and danced around her wings and the gaping mouths of her pets. Alucard removed his hat and did a deep bow.

"Fear not, my lady, you will remain standing,." he said chivalrously. A sudden gnawing sensation bit at his gut, like tiny teeth. He realized the intrusion into his personal space and hissed.

"_Someone's near my coffin- dammit!"_ He morphed into a great, black flurry of bats and raced back to the main villa, dashing downwards to the catacombs.

Meanwhile-

As the concert played down stairs and the merry chatter of guests could be made out , the only thing Sister Mariana could hear was her own ragged breathing. Cautiously, she padded down the hallway, clinging to the shadows on the walls, praying not to be found by anyone. She had finally broken her bonds after hours of attempt and was eager to get out of this terrible place as quickly as she could. The girl was freezing and half-starved-she hadn't eaten since the other day and her body ached with the various bruises and whippings that had been applied to her flesh again and again. Angelique had been gone for nearly the whole day, and her husband was no where to be found. Escape was the only urge keeping her up-right at this point.

"_Please, please God, don't let me run into them now-I'm so close, so close." she silently pleaded. _Suddenly, he head began to spin and the world grew black. A sharp thud impacted her temple, and the floor underneath her spiraled downwards. When she came to, she half expected to be greeted by the cruel smile of her mistress, instead, a pair of blue eyes, soft with concern peered into her own.

"Are you alright?" a low, feminine voice asked. Mariana focused and could make out the shape of a blonde woman with glasses and a long, deep-blue dress. The lady leaned into her and steadied her neck and head.

"You fell and hit your head on the banister, you're lucky that you didn't fall down the stairs. " the girl tried to rise, but the woman calmed her down.

"Don't move just yet-you may have hurt yourself more than you think. Are you dizzy?"

"No, but please, I have to get out of here!!" Desperation sparked her voice.

"Shhh, calm down, let's get you up slowly-here take my arm." The young nun grasped on to the woman's upper arm, attempting to get a grip against the velvet. They rose slowly and her aid led her down to the right of the stairway.

"Here, come into my room, sit down." She was guided to the bed and collapsed against it. The woman put on the lamp and gasped at the state she was in; a dark bruise coloured her cheek where it had made impact with the wood, but numerous others alighted her arms , neck, breasts ,and thighs in various shades of pain. So much abuse was visible, because so much flesh was revealed. The girl wore a skimpy pink pair of lace shorts with ragged black, net stockings, a severe leather corset nipped her waist and pushed her round breasts upwards, while her hands and forearms were cased in the same smooth material. Sir Hellsing gasped.

"My God, who did this to you?"

"The Bishop, and Angelique...", her voice trailed off, weak. Integra pursed her lips in fury; she knew that Maxwell was a sick, perverted bastard, but she was practically a child- how far could the depths of his depravity sink? Thunderous applause echoed in from up the stairs.

"The children," Marianna breathed," Are the children alright?"

"Yes, yes, they're fine." Integra soothed. "It's intermission form their concert. I came up here to grab a smoke, but it appears I have none. I'm lucky to have found you though. What's your name?"

"Marianna."

"You will stay here- no-one will bother you, I'll lock you in if I have to." The girl began to cry softly. Clumsily, Sir Hellsing stroked her hand.

"Thank you, thank you.", she wept. Tears ran down her face and her nose began to leak. "I remember you now, you were at the opening night's ball. You were dressed in grey and had your servant with you-the dark, tall man. Maximilian wants you, you know that, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I know..." Integra huffed. The girl grasped her hand desperately, and her wide, brown eyes locked into Sir Hellsing's.

"He plans to harm you, he has a talisman, a charm. He practiced all sorts of dark, evil things to bring you close, you mustn't stay here- you have to leave!" Her voice was now bordering on frantic and her body was shaking. To be this agitated in her current state would be dangerous.

"Rest now, I'll see if I can get you something from the dining hall later, but right now, you need your rest." Integra left the woman to regain her strength and turned sharply on her heels. The animosity that burned in her chest was dormant lava now ready to explode. Instead of turning into a raging berserker, Integra composed herself and devised a battle plan like a seasoned general. While she knew the alters were destroyed, where was this talisman that the nun was raving about? Wherever the hell it was, Integra was determined to find and destroy it. She descended the staircase regally, back straight, eyes looking past the sea of elegantly dressed party-goers and pin-pointed her target- the Arch Bishop and the wine table. She casually plucked two bottles of the strongest liquor from the line up, ignoring stares and eyebrows at her brazen behaviour, then strode over to were Enrico was pleasantly chatting with a pair of elderly ladies decked out like Russian nobility in drapery and fur. She cast a grin that made the Bishop pause, glass en route to his lips. There was something down- right wicked and wanting her eyes, it sent chills racing up and down his back. The rest of her looked pretty thrilling as well in skin-tight, midnight -blue velvet.

"Hello Bishop, are you enjoying the night?," she asked Integra cast a charming smile at the two women who bowed slightly and excused themselves, no doubt sensing her desire to speak with Maxwell privately.

"Where were you - you seemed gone such a long time?," he inquired. Sir Hellsing stepped up, nearly brushing her nose against his.

"I stepped out for a cigar, but it wasn't what I wanted." Enrico looked amused.

"Oh really, and what_ is _it that you crave tonight?" A step closer bridged the space between the pair.

"You." A light flick of her tongue brushed his earlobe, barely noticeable to the collective audience, but Maxwell nearly dropped his glass. "Now, _please._.." She purred. For a moment, Enrico's heart stopped in his chest. He began to exit with Integra following with the bottles of Amontinaro in tow. An elderly rabbi with greying locks and Yeshiva beard paused him for a moment.

" Arch Bishop, would you like to continue your statement on Religious Unity for the Israeli Press now, or-" A quasi-friendly hand waved him off.

"Later, sir, later. I have pressing business." Sir Hellsing bit her lip and refrained from saying that the only pressing matter he had was lust building in his trousers.

"_Be nice- happy thoughts...", she reminded herself. _They disappeared up into the deep darkness of the hallway and into the Bishop's boudoir.

Elsewhere-The Catacombs

Alucard stood looming, leering over the entangled body of the witch. She had dared to touch his resting place, his sacred heart, his home away from home. He felt little pity for her- she merely got what she deserved. His familiars had seeped out of the coffin and engulfed her body, binding it in thick, inky tentacles and myriads of scurrying centipede legs, twitching and brushing against her throat and torso. She gazed up at him with bitter anger.

"Madame, you are an idiot.," he stated, "I am so tired of such nonsense in my after-life."

"If you are going to kill me, then go ahead- stop talking and complete the task, monsieur. " The vampire couched down, a twisted smile of daggers protruding from his mouth and his eyes rimmed with bloodlust. "Wound you, but not kill you, that sounds like more of a fitting fate, don't you think. This way, you can never harm your own children again." Angelique spat in his face.

"Bastard! How dare you- I know what I am- Murder, Witch, Harlot, but I do not turn on my own!"

"Have you talked to your husband about who will become the zombies, Madame? " A sensation tickled at his mind.

"_Hoy! Alucard, where are you?" It was Lord Hellsing- approaching rapidly._

"_Catacombs, be careful, I have company." _ His presence drew closer and closer until he heard a scampering of feet descending the staircase. Lord Andrew, unkempt, and lip bloodied, progressed forwards, pistol brandished. Behind him, Sister Yumiko followed hesitantly, a bundle wrapped up in a blanket cradled in her arms, with the stink of rot surrounding it.

"It's alright Sister, he won't hurt you." Andrew promised, As he drew closer, he made a face at the writhing mass of pulpy flesh and insectoid appendages securing the battle-worn blonde against the wall.

"Lord Hellsing, this is Mrs. Le Chat, the woman in league with Maxwell in the zombie attacks on Hellsing Manor. " Lord Andrew scowled and raised his gun. Yumiko drew closer, disgusted by the un-natural sight, but brave. Angelique's eyes went wide in shock as she got a better look inside the bundle.

"PAUL??"


	36. Chapter 36

Bizarre Love Triangle

_Bit of a warning for those of you who think I may be veering towards an E X I idea-have no fear- the lady is an accomplished actress and will do a fabulous job of fooling him... _

"_There's a fine line between love and illusion"- Rush_

She was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. While the dress covered her person from collarbone to ankle, it clung to every curve gracefully, like a deep pool of marine water, rippling and shifting with each movement. Long hair caressed firm shoulders, and brushed against the small of her back in thick waves, smelling like ivy and clover- she was springtime, _Prima Vera _, warming the mid-winter chill. She moved like a tigress through tall grass- elegant, powerful, and predatory. An inviting smile played on her lips and she held two goblets filled to the brim. The fireplace crackled in the background and the soft, almost dream-like strains of "Moonlit Sonata" drifted.

"Here," she offered, handing off the cup,"It's sweet, very sweet." The Arch Bishop began to slowly sip the sherry when she sat next to him, brushing her body against his. It was enough to make him almost choke on his drink, but his calm demeanor stayed in tact, just barely camouflaging the heat mounting in his blood.

"Sorry, but the divan's a bit small..." she stated. Integra slipped an arm around his shoulder and Maxwell could not help but grin. Casually, she sipped her drink and savoured the taste.

"I thought that you did not care for sweet things.," he commented.

"Tastes change-shouldn't one be open to new experiences?" Light fingers danced against the curve of his neck.

"Absolutely...", he murmured and went to kiss her lips. A slight turn caused him catch the corner of her mouth instead.

"Finish your drink first, dear, there will be plenty of time for that later." The Arch Bishop's free hand began to snake around Sir Hellsing's waist, enjoying the sensation of firm muscles and rich velvet.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look tonight?," he asked. Coyly, the woman angled her head . "You look like a Raphael Madonna." His long fingers curled under her chin and pulled his face up to meet his. "You can be a most lovely, charming creature, Integra.," Slowly, her fingers inched up his torso-not so much out of amore, but to see if the charm was hidden in the upper pockets of his vest. A full palm squeezed his chest before sliding towards to his hair, loosening its bindings. The young man purred, overjoyed at the amount of affection his beloved was showering upon him. As Sir Hellsing ran through his locks, Enrico finished off his cup.

"Here, let me pour you a bit more.," she stated as the liquor flowed freely.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?," She cocked an eye brow mischievously.

"Of course, how else can I have my way with you..." The Bishop shifted the glass away and drew her in.

"I really don't think that will be necessary...", he breathed, and kissed her fully on the mouth.

Elsewhere-

While the concert was a roaring success, Father Anderson's mind was still heavy with thoughts about his superior's actions. Maxwell had been nowhere to be seen since the intermission, disappearing upstairs, rumoured to be with the Protestant Knight herself. He could not worry about what was currently going on, bur he needed to take this borrowed time to do some business. As he made his way from complimenting guests and by-standers, a small tug was felt at his side.

"Father, where are you going?," a little voice asked. He looked down into the inquisitive gaze of Marguerite , still in her choir robe. "You're not gonna disappear like Sister Mary-Anna and Paul, are you?" He patted the child's head and began to crouch down so that his eyes could meet her level.

"No, no, don't ya worry yourself none- I'm just goin' ta get you and yer friends some early Christmas presents. I need ya ta stay here with yer schoolmates Maggie, understand?" The child nodded excitedly. He rose and wagged a finger at her. "Remember, no peaking." With that, the priest made his way down the hallway to the Arch Bishop's office . Cautiously, he surveyed the space, eyes darting to and fro to see if any guards were posted. The coast seemed clear, and he progressed silently to the door. He checked the knob, jiggling it to the left-locked. Anderson rounded the corner to his right and went to the huge, potted aloe plant , digging through its leaves. A small, brass key was embedded in the dirt. He took it and opened the lock, bridging the door. He entered the room slowly; the first thing that hit him was a mildly foul stench that reminded him of the drunk man of a week or so prior. A thick, cloying scent of disinfectant attempted to mask it, but only made it worse. He ignored the smell as best as he could, using only the thin ray of light to guide him deeper in. Father Anderson flicked on the desk lamp only to be met by a rather nasty shock. In the dim light, he could make out the silhouette of a man slumped on the couch in the back of the room. Dammit- was it a guard? He moved closer, hands clenched, ready to fight if he had to.

"Hallo?", he stated as he progressed closer, the stink growing stronger. The figure stirred slightly, shifting, standing upright with a definite slump in its shape. A prickling sensation ran up the back of Anderson's neck- whatever this was, it was not natural. A low moan emanated from the 'man', and he shambled his way out into the light.

"Father Lumi ?!," the Priest cried in shock- it _was_ the fellow priest, but my God, what had happened to him!? His face was a pallid, half-rotted mess, chunks of skin dangling off like cheesecloth stretched over muscle. His eyes were milky marbles in sunken sockets, and his mouth was twisted into a shape of pain. A thick collar bound his neck and a chain tethered him to the radiator in the farthest corner of the room. The creature let out a strangled cry and lurched towards him, arms poised in a striking gesture.

"Mother of God-what the Hell happened to ya?," The creature wasn't dead- not fully , anyhow, and he was not a ghoul This looked more like what used to be termed "Island Possession" back in the bad, old days. He had to restrain the zombie, but not kill it; after all, underneath all that rot was still a Man of God.

"Easy does it man," Anderson calmed," I just want ta get ya out of here, let's just-" his sentence was cut off with a pair of ragged hands tearing at his face. The paladin side-stepped the attack, leaving him with only a mere scape on his cheek. Again, the creature tore at his face and robes clenching a wad of material between his fingers. This closeness was exactly what Alexander needed though. He battered his forehead against the fiend's own, as a dull crunch pierced the air. A harsh knee impacted with the gut and the creature winced. The priest was just getting warmed up.

"Lights out!," he snarled and punched the 'man' squarely in the temple, making him reel backwards and to the floor. Anderson stood over him for a moment to see if the zombie would rise, it didn't. He huffed and brushed his shirt and coat clean-the foul thing had shed all of its dead, grey skin all over the front of his clothes.

"Bloody faking zombies, vampires an' Protestants..." he cursed as he went through some of the papers on the desk , selecting a few from the folders, "If this makes me late for pickin' up the kids' gifts, I'm goin' ta get really angry..."

Elsewhere-

Nearly two-dozen candles blazed in the boudoir, casting a shimmering glow against the walls. The delicate scent of lavender and ivy wafted through the place. A trail of clothes led into the bedroom stopping at the foot of a great, four-poster canopy bed, decked in crimson and ivory satin. Soft sighs and groans could be heard from beneath the bedclothes and a sharp cry burst forth.

"Ouch! That was my hair!" Integra protested.

"Sorry, come here my _Ciccolina..." _The woman sat up, a look of controlled rage contorting her face, but the Hellsing Heir bit her lip to hide it. She was still dressed, her long frock, unzipped almost fully in the back, but so far she had managed to keep Enrico's determined hands from de-robing her completely. Meanwhile, his jacket, vest, and shirt lay sprawled on the floor, along with another two bottles of finished wine. The Bishop cuddled up and began whispering the most lovely, yet obscene phrases in Italian to her. Integra blushed, not fully sure of their exact meaning, but she got the hint. The coupled spooned for a moment, Maxwell taking full advantage of the exposed flesh. He trailed kisses down her bare back, attempting to pull the dress from her shoulders. The wet tip of his tongue flicked over the series of ridged scars that marred her skin, like ribbons of cream through coffee. Hands slipped over her rib cage and cupped her breasts, fingertips maneuvering through the velvet. Heat flushed on the woman's cheeks. It was things like this that still struck a small spark in her.

"_Damn hormones!", she mentally cursed_; _while her spirit was dead against any interaction with this man, her body still recognized pleasure. Thank God his own , inebriated behaviour discouraged any further actions. _He kissed her shoulders before licking her neck- yuck! Lord, it was like being romanced by a Labrador Retriever !

"I love youuu.," he slurred, "So very, verrry much...I'll make you happy , you'll see..." he professed, pecking her nose, and shifting on top of his fiancee. The only area that she had not checked on his person with either the front or back pockets of his pants- the very thought of touching him below the belt was disturbing, but it would be easier to frisk now and pass it off as a grope rather than to attempt to do it once he had passed out and he could potentially wake up enraged. Nervously, Sir Hellsing ran her hands over his hips and attempted to delve into the front, right hand pocket- nothing was present She tried the left, when her paramour let out a deep, lusty growl . Enrico grabbed her hand, and pushed it downwards across his underbelly.

"So timid, here, let me guide you." he began to press her palm over his pelvis, grazing hard flesh, when she pulled away in shock. Her startled eyes met his, and for a moment , his licentious gaze softened. Her hand was trembling.

"Poor thing, you've never touched a man like that before, have you?" he whispered It was if his eyes saw straight through her sultry ruse.

"No, no I haven't." she spoke truthfully. Gently, the Bishop kissed her forehead, cheeks, and lips. It was a sweet, respectful gesture, almost out of place. She could taste the sherry in his mouth and felt his fingers caress her chin, dipping down to her neck and clavicle

"You are indeed a noble woman," he began. There was no sarcasm in his voice, no malice. "For such a long time, I was afraid you would attempt to take control of my organization, or do whatever you could to belittle me...I see now who you truly are, a decent girl..." Hands began to caress her breasts with tender, loving strokes. A gasp caught in Integra's throat- she could not be lulled by sweet words or seductive actions.

"I've had so few people care for me, I've always been alone... Now, I have you." he began to suckle and lick her neck like a greedy child. The woman closed her eyes and was transported by his touch. " It's always been so cold, but you _do _have a warm, warm heart..." he professed. Slowly, Enrico peeled away the velvet and lapped against the smoothness of her skin. Her iron-clad resolve crumbled under the wetness of his tongue across her nipples, and she felt herself grow limp. After what seemed to be an eternity, he gingerly covered her torso, kissed her, and pillowed his head over her heart.

"_So warm_..." he whispered. For just a brief, impossible moment, a bit of sympathy for the devil was struck, as Integra petted his hair and let the man drift off into a peaceful sleep . The rich wine knocked him out and after a few moments, the scene turned from a tender moment to tactics. Enrico's body became dead weight and a thin web of spittle began to leak from his lips.

"Oh gross!," Sir Hellsing exclaimed as she attempted to get the sleeping man off of her. The more she pushed, the deeper he snuggled into her bosom.

"Lord, why does everyone like to use me as a pillow ?!," she complained. Finally, with a twist, she freed herself. Maxwell hit the coverlet with a thud, and continued his nap. Integra readjusted herself and re-zipped the dress. Much to her embarrassment, her arousal still peaked. She blushed and smoothed the front of her dress, reminding herself that this was duty, she was still very much the Iron Maiden, and if her vampire ever caught wind of such tactics performed here tonight, he would never let her live it down. _"Not to mention he would probably go the extra length to show that he was much, much more satisfying..." a husky, little voice interjected. Integra scowled- bloody, bloody, hormones! If she survived all this, she was in store for either a very cold shower, or rutting her servant raw on the bedroom floor when they got back to England. _

After her mental debate, she crept over to the night stand to continue her search for the talisman. She opened the top drawer quietly, finding nothing but a few, standard medals of Saints, a pearl Rosary, and two Bibles-nothing out of the ordinary. The bottom drawer was quite the opposite; various straps of leather, a pair of fur-lined hand-cuffs, silk bindings, a rather sharp, angled knife, and two small whips. A black box caught her attention, but as Integra examined it, the case spilled open, revealing the contents- little squares proclaiming " Grande, Lubricate" She cocked a brow.

"I thought the Church looked down on such 'Artificial Means' ", she scoffed, placing the foiled pieces back in their box and closing the wicked drawer. It least he wasn't spawning little beasts all over Europe- that was a comforting consolation. Her attention turned to the pile of clothes sprawling over the floor. She had checked his vest pockets, but not the coat. She dove into the long, black jacket and fingered the left and right front pockets. She felt something in the left, but the pouch was empty. The object was there, but in the lining. Quickly, she tore it out, the satin ripping away allowing her to pull out a small, leather pouch. Sir Hellsing opened it slightly to reveal a glass, rosary-like object, but instead of a Cross , a jagged piece of glass hung from the bottom. Also, several of the beads were missing. A soft grumble came from the bed as Maxwell shifted in his sleep. He gurgled something incoherent and pulled the covers over. Integra carefully wrapped the charm around her wrist and took one of the top-shelf rosaries, replacing it inside the leather holder. She tucked the pouch back in, folding the ripped lining inwards, hoping that this decoy would suffice for now. Silently, she made her way out of the bedroom, praying for the Arch Bishop to sleep soundly until tomorrow.

If you've read "Monsters Under the Bed.," Seras unwittingly falls asleep on top of her Mistress, pillowing herself against her chest. While she may not be as endowed as her servant, Integra is apparently quite comfy... :)


	37. Chapter 37

Ruined in a Day

While the unusual trio of a former mercenary, an assassin nun , and an un-dead war-lord all possessed battle-hardened hearts, the scene before them was gut wrenching; Angelique crouched on the floor, rocking the small, now- dead body of Paul Estelle. Tears rolled down the woman's cheeks as she clung the limp frame of the child in her arms. She wept bitterly and bewailed his loss in broken French. Yumiko started to cry a little herself before wiping the wetness quickly from her eyes and directing a question to Alucard.

"Now what do we do?", she questioned softly, "Are there more zombies in the villa?" The vampire shook his head.

"I feel a presence, but it's not very strong. If there are any additional zombies, there aren't many - we can take care of them quickly." Lord Hellsing gestured towards the woman.

"What are we going to do about her?," Alucard shrugged.

"She was the one cursing your family, perhaps I should leave her fate up to you and my master." Mrs. Le Chat looked up, a mix of bitterness and heartbreak still played on her features.

"Did you know that the Bishop would be using your own as fodder?" Lord Andrew asked. Angelique looked away.

"Told me of what he needed and my family provided their services- the children were not to be harmed. Maxwell wanted the formula for the physical zombie powder and he wanted the talisman to ensnare the madame." Her lips curved into a snarl,"He never mentioned anything about the children..." she hissed.

"What the bloody Hell did you think he was going to use this for? " Andrew growled. "How gullible can you be?" The little nun put a hand to his shoulder.

"This isn't helping , what are we going to do about the boy?" Angelique sighed.

"The police will have to be informed and his body taken in."

"Also, your husband will have to answer for his actions." Alucard added. Angelique looked up.

"So Jacques did this during the services?" The vampire nodded. Mrs. Le Chat's head sank. "I knew that the Baron was getting out of control, but I didn't think he would demand_ this_ from us... " Alucard crouched down and pushed her chin up with a finger, their eyes met, crimson against pained blue-grey.

"Absolute power demands absolute sacrifice at times."

"Yes, but not for _him._.." She clung to the little body tighter. Gently, Alucard took the bundle from her and made his way over to the side of the catacombs.

"What are you doing with Paul?!," she demanded. The Cheshire King opened up one of the intact caskets and brushed the thick layer of dust out of the bottom. Tenderly, he laid the body down, wrapping the cloth over the still face of the boy. He paused and studied the closed eyes- once he had a son this age too, but that was so long ago... death claims not just the young and brash on the battlefields, or the old and fragile on their deathbeds, but the innocent as well.

"Let him have a comfortable resting place. Nothing here will harm or touch him...," The creature cast a menacing look around the room at the skulls and skeletons. , "Do I make myself clear!?",

"Um, Mr. Hellsing, just who exactly is he speaking to ?," Sister Yumiko questioned. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"I think that immortals go a bit daffy over the years, just ignore it, believe me, you don't want to get him going..."

"Tonight, we will be dealing with the Baron himself, since your husband asked me not to have to present to spare you whatever may happen, I suggest you find him and say whatever that needs to be said. Also, the authorizes will be informed, so prepare yourself for that, too." Alucard turned and began to walk away. Angelique rose.

"Wait! Am I not to have any vengeance against Maxwell for his deceit?" A wide, wicked grin spread over Alucard's face.

"Absolutely! Do whatever you wish to him, I certainly won't deny you that, lady." With that last statement, he morphed through the walls in a great black and scarlet mist, disappearing through the stone.

"Does he always make these grand exits?", the nun questioned.

"Yes, yes he does-makes life interesting."

Elsewhere- The Guest Bedroom

A warm cup of soup and a pair of clean, cotton pyjamas were as close to Heaven as Sister Mariana could get right now. She had washed and bandaged herself up as best as she could, easing into the safety of the room. The woman that had helped her, Sir Integra Hellsing, had kept her word and aided her as much as possible. She had not seen her for most of the evening, but she knew that she was returning, eventually. Slowly, the girl laid back on the borrowed bed and curled up into a small ball, snuggling deep into the thick blankets. Her lids became heavy and within moments, she was dozing off.

Not too soon after, Mariana felt a light pressure on her shoulder and slowly opened her eyes. She pulled back startled, at the tall, dark man that was now sitting next to her. He was handsomer than she had first remembered, with sharp, angular features and intelligent eyes. While his height was looming, she felt no intimidation, just surprise.

"Sorry to startle you, but you were dead asleep when I came in." , he stated with a polite smile. Mariana collected herself and sat up.

"You are the servant of Miss Integra, aren't you?" He nodded.

"Correct." She smiled weakly.

"I remember you from the party, so much has changed since then, I...," the girl wavered as if she might cry. The vampire put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright, you've been through quite an ordeal, so just relax and get some sleep." His words were simple, yet hypnotic, and the little nun felt her body ease and fall under whatever spell the man was weaving. She plopped back down on the pillow and rested. Alucard grinned at his handy-work and made his way into the bathroom-no sign of his master, though he did faintly smell her- she had been back within the past two hours or so, but not present. While he did not like to usually snoop in his master's belongings, he needed something of hers for the ceremony tonight. Just a few of her precious cigars would do fine as an offering towards the loa, but they all appeared to be gone. However, few garments discarded on the floor caught his eye. He leaned down and plucked up a black, leather corset and a pair of matching gloves. The material was butter-soft, yet firmly structured,with hard, steel boning and graceful line-incredibly sexy, yet tough.

"_Hmmm, just like her...,_" _the vampire thought, envisioning his master in its casings ._"_ I might need to save this for another time..." _He tucked the pieces away in his enormous coat and strode out through the bedroom to continue his search for tobacco. For a moment he stared at the poor sleeping girl and felt genuinely sorry for her state. He paused, pealed off a glove, gnashed his palm open with his sharp teeth and flicked some of his blood out onto the floor. The thick, black liquid shifted and morphed into a canine -like shape with several pairs of red, glowing eyes. After a few minutes, a great, shaggy dog the colour of ink sat at his attention.

"_Protect her from harm.," he mentally commanded. _The familiar barked in agreement and settled itself at the foot of the bed to diligently watch over his keep. The poor child had already been through so much, it was the least he could do. The vampire could still hear the chattering of some of the convention guests downstairs and thought of a decent way to obtain his prize. The clock was ticking and it was rude to keep other immortals waiting...

Elsewhere-

He groped the space next to him, hoping to find a warm, willing body lying by his side. Instead, he only felt the softness of an additional pillow. "In-tegra?," the Arch Bishop squeaked, eyes barely opened. His head was swimming in a thick pool of sherry and table wine. A dull ached permeated his entire skull and he felt the after-taste in his mouth turn bitter. Slowly, he sat up, and searched the room. There was no sign of his beloved Enrico padded awkwardly to the toilette - the bath had been drawn, a few rose petals still floating in the scented water, and most of the surrounding candles now dead in a puddle of their own wax , but no sign of her. He grabbed a glance of himself in the mirror-Good Lord! His hair was a tangled mess, his eyes circled red, and his lips puffy and sore. However, upon closer inspection, he did notice a few ripe marks blossoming on his neck and shoulder.

"Hot _Damn_!," he exclaimed- for an 'ice queen' she sure could get passionate. He hadn't been this proud of a hickey since he was sixteen and had gotten under the habits of some of the cuter novices... He checked his chest and lower stomach, alas, no marks, but smiled at the fact that tonight he had finally gotten to sample some of her sweeter sections. She had lovely breasts, a _perfect _mouthful... However, his cockiness was cut short by a sudden shock of nausea that grasped him by the throat and didn't let go until he reeled to the toilet, spilling all of his drink.

Elsewhere- Canter Theatre, London

They had been through worse periods in their marriage; once, about four years prior, an enraged religious group had held Andrew and three other soldiers hostage until their needs were met- several thousand pounds to restore the damage done to their temple, or each man would have their hands cuts off. Andrew had been one of the lucky ones, with the government intervening at the last minute- one of his comrades went home missing three fingers and a thumb, while another lost an entire hand. Meena tried not to remember the gory details as she greeted various patrons and accepted their gracious complements.

"Tonight, you were outstanding!," one music critic exclaimed.

"No one does Bach quite like you." another commented.

"This was the best Christmas present my husband could have ever given me!," an acclaimed professor of music declared. The compliments and numerous bouquets were wonderful, the words of praise flattering, and the attention form the press should have up-lifted her spirits, but only her family knew what she was really feeling. Her mother-in-law cast her a knowing look, and she tried hard to return a more cheerful gesture . Her smile was broad and brilliant, but underneath, all she wanted was Andrew beside her...

Meanwhile, Hellsing Manor-

The little vampire sat outside, staring up at the night sky, watching the way the clouds tossed on the winter wind. She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, puffing out little bits of mist between her lips. Seras was a creature of action, while she was not impatient , waiting just left her bored, and unfortunately gave fuel to her already panicked imagination.

"_What if all of them are trapped in Italy, and here I am, unable to do a bloody thing? What if Lord Andrew's in trouble, or something terrible has happened to Miss Integra... that filthy Bishop could be doing horrid things to her... Ohhhh, if I could just get my hands on that miserable, little jerk, I would-" _

"Strangle him?", a familiar voice completed her sentence. Her captain strode over to her, cigarette dangling from his lip, and a bright, orange scarf wrapped around his neck. "You know, you think pretty loud too, sometimes. " Pip sat down and she pressed against him.

"I know, but I am so sick of hanging around for something to happen- what are we to do, wait until it's too late. The whole organization could fall under Section XIII's hand."

"I don't think that's going to be the case- do you have that little faith in your masters and Lord Hellsing?"

"No, it's not that, but we're a team, and because of the division , I just worry that we may not be doing everything that we could do to ensure victory." Captain Bernadette pushed out a thick trail of smoke and laughed lightly.

" 'Ensure Victory', jeeze, you have been watching too many old war documents with Walter... " She looked crossly at him." Vic honey, you need to take a step back and take a breath. You can't be a good solider for the long run if you're always chomping at the bit- conserve your strength, girl." Her eyes went soft.

"I know, but I really hate feeling so..."

"Useless..." he completed.

"Yes," she quipped, batting his arm. "Stop finishing my thoughts! It's annoying!" He laughed a little more, much to her displeasure.

"Here I got something to help you keep your spirits up." he said as he dug through his bulky coat pocket. A small, white satin box was produced. Pip opened it slowly, revealing the cross necklace. Seras' eye grew wide, and her face lit up.

"It's lovely! Oh thank you!', she cried hugging him .

"I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but it appears you need it more right now." Seras fingered the delicate chain and her eyes trailed over the detailed rose in the center.

" I know it looks like silver, but it's white gold, so you can wear it..." he trailed off, a big embarrassed grin spreading over his face. "Umm, you really do like it, right?"

His vampire grasped him around the waist and snuggled up.

"Like it, I love it-oh, thank you..." She placed a grateful kiss on his lips.

"You taste like cigarettes.," she teased. Gently, Pip rubbed his nose to hers and mentally spoke what was in his heart.

"_Remember, sometimes faith clings by a thread-whenever you're afraid that thread will break, just know that I'm always behind you to sew it up again." _The girl smiled and kissed him gently, fully, taking in all of his endearment and the rich taste of tobacco on his tongue.

Meanwhile- The Courtyard, Maximilian Villa

While certain sections of the garden were divided off due to some 'reconstruction', most of the courtyard was still intact and drew a small crowd filtering out from the concert and late, night supper. A couple veered away from the crowd and began to walk in the chilly, night air.

"They were really cute, don't ya think Liz? I mean, when I was a kid, I sounded like a flat tire, couldn't sing worth a damn." the large, red man commented to his companion. The woman snuggled up to his side, pulling her tweed paperboy cap over her head as the pair strolled along the courtyard grounds.

"I'm so glad that we were able to go-thanks Red, this has been like , one of the highlights of this whole convention."

"What, ya didn't like "Modern Devils and You", I thought that the guy giving the speech was really energetic." The girl playfully slapped his massive arm.

"The Bishop was really _nervous-_you were sitting right up front getting him riled up... did you have to grin right at him?" The man chuckled deeply.

"Yup- there's something about that guy that really bugs me, like underneath that pious exterior, he's a real jerk..."

"_Right you are..." a rich voice stated._ All of a sudden, the duo took on an aggravated stance.

"Okay, what the Hell goes on here- where ya at?" Red demanded. His fists were clenched and Liz already was centered in a combative pose, when she gasped; a man clothed in a crimson, wide -brimmed hat, coat ,and suit rose up out of the ground in front of her, sporting a mad dog grin .

"Good evening to you, Miss Sherman," he stated with a little tip of his fedora. The glare of the devil-man caught his eye, but Alucard deflected it with a charming smile and a similar bow.

"And greetings to you, oh Son -of -the- Earth... so sorry to interrupt your evening stroll, but I am in need of your assistance." The pair eased up and approached the vampire in a more friendly manner.

"What ya need, Spooky?"

"It appears that my master is in a bit of bind, she is in desperate need of some cigars, cigarettes, anything that had tobacco in it."

"Huh? Is she havin' a Nic fit, or somethin'- dames can get pretty scary when they don't have their smokes..." Liz shot him an irked look.

"I wish it was that simple, but I need to placate a loa in order to save my household. Comprende? " Both shot each other a knowing look before digging into their pockets and coats producing a half-pack of Lucky Strikes and two, untouched Cuban cigars.

"I didn't get a chance ta smoke these babies yet, but I think she needs them more- good luck , Spooky." Alucard thanked them and burst into a cluster of flapping bats, taking to the air like lightning. The pair watched with a bit of awe as he flew off into the night.

"Vampires are such show-offs..." Red stated, while Liz silently wished him well.


	38. Chapter 38

Close Range

When a Loa desires something, it obtains it at any cost. Consequences, regrets, guilt, or any other humane emotions melt away when want surfaces. Revered, feared, praised, cursed, the Baron had taken on many names throughout His constant existence- the Cross Roads man, the Night Gentleman, and the Prince of the Graveyard. His prowess and potency did not wane with the oncoming of the Christian missionaries with their high collars and low tolerance, nor did it fade with the birth of the Scientific Revolution, or the Age of Enlightenment and Information, where fact replaced faith on matters unexplained understanding. He was a deity, an immortal being that existed beyond the realm of human comprehension.

However, in spite of His great ability and power, a Loa still needed a human host to translate, project and make His essence flesh-how ironic, an omnipotent being had to co-exist with a humble construct of tissue, bone, and blood. This is where Jacques Philippe Le Chat came in oh, so handy. The man's heart was cleaved in two- one side was quite humane, filled with compassion, tenderness and beneficial nature. His other half teemed with flaws- lust for flesh, cravings for material wealth and perhaps above all, a desire for superiority. Like clay, the Baron was able to manipulate that divided heart and shape it to fit his needs. This co-existence had been a pleasant merger, until the damn vampire had come along. While most other immortals quivered in His presence, _this_ one feared nothing- the Loas' challenges and threats were empty to him. While the Baron let no one disturb him, it was the creatures tenacity that troubled him.

Jacques was calm, sipping a glass of white wine and contemplating his fate. The hour was late and he knew that his death was approaching on silent wings. He had an interesting life upon this plane for almost forty-two years, and while he would miss his second wife and children terribly, he realized that it had gotten out of hand. At first, he had been able to control the power within him, censoring out some of the darker needs, but now, every time he communed, another part of his humanity was ripped from him-the claiming of Paul was testimony to that. The clock struck and his heart skipped.

"_Jacques...," a voice as smooth and soft as coffin velvet whispered_

The man closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Let me finish my drink, old man.," he countered,"Can't I have that last entitlement?" Silence crushed the room.

Elsewhere- The Wine Cellars, Maximilian Villa

Far below the exquisite grounds of the villa, there is a wine cellar that dates back almost three centuries collecting some of the most rare, exquisite wines from across the globe. The bottles sit like precious gems waiting to be plucked off ancient pedestals; ruby red, citron gold, and obsidian black. However, an even greater treasure lies just under the structure- a hidden series of rooms that were used in times of crisis. Few people knew of their existence, being concealed from the prying eyes of the Maximilian Household. Father Anderson knew it well, making good use out of these spaces in times of need- after all, with all the new, soft laws about baring forced questioning, sometimes a man just needed a little privacy an enough room to swing a fist or two to get some decent answers... however, right now it was being used a retaining area and a sick bed for one of his fellow priests.

Father Lumi's breathing was shallow and light, a soft rasping noise being emitted with every breath. His skin had been washed and salved as best as possible, with a thick gag bound around his mouth. Both arms and legs were also secured to the medical bed. While Anderson did not want to bind the poor man up like a Christmas turkey, he did not want him waking and lashing out and further hurting himself. While the inflicted slept, the Irish Priest went over the documents he had swiped from his superiors desk. The marriage documents were already written, merely needing the Hellsing Director's signature to make them legally binding. There were at least three deeds indicating a passing of the land from her hand to her ' husband's ' upon the union; the grand estate on the outskirts of London, the villa in Germany, and the summer cottage in Wales. While having multiple estates was common for European nobility , it was the added documentation for the cemetery grounds in Wales that puzzled him. What the Hell did Maxwell need with a cemetery?Something more had to be located there- after all, what would he possibly want with a bunch of Hellsing family remains?

As he skimmed through the other file, his blood began to boil. There were multiple documents for adoption- background papers, and birth certificates, while other records indicated of these children as 'missing' or even 'deceased'. There was at least forty alone in this pile, a good chunk of from Haiti. Anderson closed the folder with a thud- the same little ones he had just directed, how many of them had fallen under Maxwell's hand - and for what? A chance to gain more power, more money, or simply a chance to best one of the few people that knew exactly he was- a ruthless, power-hungry sot. By Hell or Highwater, these files would stay on his person; he would destroy the contract and return the deeds to Sir Hellsing. Of course, the details would have to be done, subtlety. An outright up-rising could put his children back in Ireland at risk... A little groan came from the patient. Father Anderson rose and patted his forehead with a damp cloth.

"Just a little longer, we'll get ya out of here.", he said. He thought of Father O' Mally, the head priest and director at the private hospital in Dublin where he would go on occasion when even his wounds needed just a little more handling than his own body could handle.( The transfer would be difficult, but the man owed him a few favours, especially since he had personally taken care of some terrorist activity back in the '90's that had caused damage to the hospital...) A phone call was needed as soon as possible- another pawn would not be crushed in vain.

Elsewhere-

Integra slept soundly, weary from her evening's facade. She had taken the couch upon returning to her room and discovering Marinara dead asleep on her bed, accompanied by a huge Hell-hound that wagged its tail and greeted her with a sloppy lick . While the divan was comfortable enough, her dreams were frighteningly vivid and she tossed in her sleep.

_The room was hung with heavy, burgundy drapes against vast picture windows filtering in silver moonlight. Jasmine and rose water scented the place. A pair of large gold candelabras glowed with dozens of blazing candles, casting strange shapes against a sumptuous four-poster bed covered in rich, red satin and lace. _

"_Lord, it looks like a giant valentine box..." Sir Hellsing commented. All of a sudden, she felt a bit drafty and took a glance downwards- she was dressed like a bloody valentine in a rouge, satin corset, lace , garters and heels. She squeaked and covered herself in surprise. _

"_Come, come, my love, no need for that ..." , a smug voice chimed. She turned to see an angular form silhouetted against the window . Slowly, the figure of Enrico Maxwell came into focus, hair loose, shirt opened and wearing a pair of leather pants, gloves and a devastating smile. He glided over to her side and slipped arms around her waist, her balance teetering on the stiletto spikes. Hands pawed her hips and the smooth curve of her thighs. _

"_Waiting for me, hmmm?, " a delighted purr escaped his lips as he dove into her skin, assaulting her neck with kisses. Sir Hellsing attempted to deflect his affections, but the pushes only incited his passions further. In one fell swoop, the Bishop scooped her up and plopped her down on the sheets. _

"_Someone as pretty as you should defiantly be fucked in a bed." _

"_Get your hands off me!," she demanded. He merely pecked her nose and proceeded to bind up her hands with a thick, black ribbon from the bedside. Dammit- how in the world did he tie her so quickly-it was as if his fingers were lightening. She attempted to knee him in the gut, but he deftly maneuvered and ended up firmly between her thighs. To add insult to injury, the more she struggled, the corset began to ride lower and lower on her chest. Her agitator pillowed his chin against her cleavage and peered up into ferocious, blue orbs._

"_You known, you're beautiful when you're angry...," his voice began to morph and shift along with the rest of him. The light hair darkened to ebony and the green eyes merged into scarlet. A Cheshire grin greeted her after a few moments. _

"_Alucard! How could you do this??," she demanded. The vampire merely shook his head, black tendrils snaking across her breasts making her shiver in spite of her anger._

"_Just getting back at you for enjoying your work a bit too much, my master." he chided. The fire subsided a bit in Integra's eyes._

"_Oh...," she stated, softly, hurt. "It's just that I, " his lips silenced her as their mouths merged and kindled a voluptuous heat. They broke, and he continued across her jaw and up to her ear, lapping the lobe. _

"_I think, that you've just been wound up so tight your whole life that now that you've tasted something warm... you want more. The only way to avoid temptation is to succumb to it..." She shifted slowly, legs beginning to tightly wrap around his torso._

"_So, this is what I secretly desire?"_

"_I don't think it's so secret now," he whispered nuzzling her cheek," but, yes it's what you long for in your heart of hearts , perhaps minus the heels."_

"_Only a dream?," _

"_Correct," he replied with a kiss."only a dream...a harmless, delicious fantasy..." The woman's body tensed and she exhaled. _

"_Then let us dream...", she replied . Her servant smiled and parted her lips with a lick of his tongue. The night was filled with soft sighs, staggered breath, as the music of desire played endlessly, accompanied by the occasional scream of delight..._

Elsewhere -The Catacombs

Goodbyes had been said and Angelique Le Chat kissed and held her husband for the last time. She pleaded with him for reason, but the man merely smiled, brushed her cheek and bid her farewell. Lord Andrew and Sister Yumiko lead the woman back to her room, Jacques wincing at the sound of her sobs.

"You can still run..." the creature offered, "Prolong the end another day..." He merely shook his head and set up a small, sparse _offerenda , _placing the crushed cigars and cigarettes in a criss-cross pattern, splashing a bit of run over them to ignite the spark. Dense clouds of bluish smoke rose up from the small, copper plate, swirling into the air, while the room filled with the rich odour of tobacco and spice. The vampire stood still and silent as Jacques Le Chat chanted and called upon the ancient power residing in his flesh.

"Come on out and visit us- I implore you, Crossroads Man, Father of the Grave." The air took on an electric quality . The man's body began to quiver and his hands curved into claw-like shapes. He began to speak in a low, deep voice.

"I see that you are foregoing the formalities tonight, Jacques..." it stated.

"Please, I need you out , Papa. ," he begged. Dark laughter boomed from the mouth of the man, and he convulsed on the floor, writhing like a be-headed snake. After the form had twisted and turned, he rose , seeming to dangle on unseen strings. Le Chat's eyes were electric blue, brilliant with supernatural light. The surrounding skulls and skeletons chattered and trembled in fear, their bones sounding like hollow chimes announcing the arrival of a king.

"So, you draw me out vampire, what for?", the Baron inquired, voice irked.

"This man will no longer be in bondage to you.," Alucard stated. The Loa laughed at him.

"HA! And what will you do corpse, pluck out his heart?" Swallow-swift, Alucard plunged his hand straight through the chest of Jacques, a shower or blood and bone spraying outward. The man gasped once, then fell to the floor, dying. A horrific shriek came forth and the entire room vibrated with deep violent, violet hues, merging and swirling like a great whirlpool. A vapour trailed out of the cooling body, trailing up to form the image of a man dressed in a ragged suit, gold paisley vest, a black tailcoat and top hat, festooned with beads and bedraggled feathers. His face was that of a skull, the teeth bright gold and the eye-sockets bright colbalt, burning with blistering rage.

"That mortal was a priest of mine, he belonged to ME!" the Baron hissed, pointing a bony finger at the corpse. Alucard smirked.

"Well, it was his last wish to severe himself from your services, Baron, he did not care for some of your personal tactics." He plucked a still-smoldering cigar from the plate and offered it to the Loa. "Can we discuss a replacement option?" While still angry, the Baron took the cigar and puffed it, wisps of smoke filtering up and out the hollow crevices of his nose.

"What or _who_ is going to replace my servant?" he demanded.

"What of the Bishop? He has land and wealth beyond belief, plenty of power, dozens of lovers and above all, he's very easily pliable..." The skull split his gilded mouth into a grin and chuckled.

"Tre bon, old Count, tre Bon..."


	39. Chapter 39

Love Less

_Just a little nod to "Corpse Bride" here- I simply couldn't resist Besides, we've had enough nasty zombies for a while..._

"Miss, miss, wake up.," a gentle voice coxed. A warm hand on her shoulder roused Integra from her sleep. She sat up as her eyes focused and saw Sister Marinara leaning over her, concerned.

"You were moaning in your sleep, is everything all right?" she asked. The woman's cheeks flushed- she didn't realize that she had been responding to her dreams quite so loudly. Her pulse was still racing and much to her surprise, her blouse had been deeply unbuttoned in her rest.

"Fine, I'm fine-what time is it?"

"12:30." Sir Hellsing flopped back down -apparently, her servant had not come to fetch her- the erotic dreams had been to keep her out of the way. At this point, she was so exhausted that she did not really care. She undressed, and groggily pulled on bedclothes. As she began to drift off again, Integra felt the slight pull at her wrist as the talisman brushed against her skin. Outside, church bells tolled the on-going night, progressing into Christmas. Sir Hellsing shifted over, pulling the covers tightly around her torso. A fragment of an old Holiday carol sprung into her head-

"_Ding-dong, ding-dong, Christmas bells are ringing..._" She yearned to be back in England, returned soundly to her own bed, away from schemes, seductions, and stupidity. Christmas was a time of simple pleasures; a plate of roast turkey, a few cheery, nips of brandy, and above all, her family- honestly that's all she really wanted right now, to be back with them, in the peace and calm of the manor. Walter would be cooking up a storm, the whole kitchen smelling like a gingerbread house, and the great spruce in the drawing room decked in blue and gold glass balls and tinsel, ready for company. She missed the comfort of her home greatly. Snuggling deeply into her pillow, she tried to imagine a quiet night, covered in snow, laced with moonlight.

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor-

Something was a miss. The man rose from his bed and peered out the window. Something shifted against the snow, undulating against the drifts in the west wing of the garden. Across the yard, a similar action parted the areas of still visible ground. Quickly, Ari grabbed his clothes and dressed, nearly tripping over himself in the process. Before dashing out the door to his troops, he placed a call to the butler.

"Mr. Dornez, I need you to go down to the West area of the garden , please come armed. " Within a matter of minutes, a small collection of half-awake soldiers and the retainer gathered in the entranceway.

"What goes on?", one inquired, adjusting his rifle.

"I was getting ready for bed, guess not now.", another yawned. Walter had been still been up, so he was wide awake, ready to do whatever was asked of him.

"Men, we will proceed out into the garden and survey the area-I'm not sure what's exactly out there, but I can tell you, it may not be friendly- attend and defend." Captain Ari cast a look to the butler, who seem to understand the strangeness of the situation. The men began to proceed out. He walked over and whispered in Walter's ear.

"Do you sense it, too?," he asked.

"Something's not natural...Proceed with caution, our fellows have had a bit more experience with this kind of work than yours." As Ari left, a pair of rapid footsteps beat up the hall.

"You called for me, Walter?"Seras asked. Captain Bernadette accompanied her, both still dressed in their civilian clothes. "We were out back in the East wing, but what can we do?"

"Something's snaking its way around the Manor-be prepared to aid the Maharajahs." As if on cue, a spray of gunfire rang out and men began yelling. Upon arriving outside, a distressing scene unfolded; a few corpses, most broken and decayed with age twisted and turned against the ground. They writhed like giant, grey maggots against the white patches of ice, edging closer and closer to the house. Ragged hands groped and grasped the legs of the servicemen, quickly dispatched by rifles and axes. One creature was backed into a corner and covered its face with its arms, a most peculiar gesture for a ghoul. Walter noticed this and sprinted over- usually zombies, ghouls, the walking dead were not capable of such human actions. A segment of a phrase caught his ear.

"_Please, stop_!", it cried. Before Private Lyons could put a bullet into its skull, the butler backed the gun away and looked at the fiend. The skin had long been eroded away with time, leaving only bones and worn clothing, but the voice, it was _that voice _that Walter would have recognized anywhere. Though he had his razor wire in hand, the man cautiously approached the corpse.

"Mr. Houlton, is that you?" The skeleton gazed upwards , and then cast a spectral smile.

"Walter, Walter Dornez?" it questioned. Walter crouched down and a rush of memories flooded his mind. Mr. James Houlton had been one of the head butlers when he was a boy, training him in the kitchen. James had been harsh, demanding, but caring mentor, and aided him with rising to meet Lord Arthur's high standards. It was hard to believe that here he was in the flesh, of sorts, once again. Across the yard, soldiers were encountering over a dozen or more of these non-aggressive spirits.

"Hold your fire!" Seras demanded, making her way over to Mr. Dornez.

"Walter, many of these -things, are claiming to be Hellsing staff!? What in the world is going on here?" The butler skeleton steadied himself and rose to his feet, brushing off his suit.

"That can't be you, can it Greta?" he asked. Seras took a step back, confused. Walter put a hand on her shoulder and patted it.

"No, James, this is Seras, You've been gone a long, long time, there's been some changes around here." The poor 'man' looked perplexed. A few additional corpses shambled their way over to the little group.

"Why are we back here?", a light female voice asked. She was dressed in a pale pink gown and pearl choker that suggested the early 1930's. A small corpse, perhaps still in late childhood was clothed in even earlier garb, a navy sailor suit riddled with holes.

"I want to go back to were we were, it was nice there." it stated and then began to cry, its sobs sounding hollow, as if coming from inside a tin can. A small group of mixed military men came over, still wary of the new 'guests'. Ari came forth carrying half a withered skeleton ,in a severe , grey dress, the upper torso quite alive.

"Mr. Houlton, " a woman's timbre directed, " I find this current situation most distressing." Her voice- its tone, the proper diction, and firmness commanded respect. Walter did a little bow.

"Mrs. Worth, welcome back, ma'am." The corpse adjusted her spectacles and peered at him. "Ah, Mr. Dornez, it's good to see you kept your job here after all." she replied. Walter chuckled.

"I calmed down quite a bit from those days." She pointed a finger and wagged it.

"Let me tell you, young man, I am not amused! I was having the most wonderful conversation, up there," she pointed sky-wise," and then I was rudely awoken to find myself digging my way out of my resting grounds- please do not inform me that you are responsible for such a disruption in our after-lives."

"No, not at all. Ari, perhaps we can bring these travelers inside."

"Do you think that is wise, sir?"

"Destroy ones who show signs of aggression, but for any corpse that can speak and emote clearly, bring them into the servant's quarter of the kitchen. " Slowly, as if walking through a strange dream, both human and un-dead staff made their way back into the household. The little vampire seemed a bit overwhelmed, but eased.

"This is strange as Hell, but at least they seem friendly." she commented.

"There must be more going on in Italy than we first thought."

"Do you think that the Vatican's responsible for this?,"

"I would not put it past them. Now, Miss Victoria, we need to keep the rest of the_ living _staff calm and have our new house guests welcomed. Let's go in and show them some hospitality. I suggest to have about a dozen kettles of tea put on. "

"Did you really know all these people when you were young?"

"Some I did- I have been in service to this homestead for a very, very long time. " Seras cast a worried glance around the yard.

"Um, you don't think that there will be any more of them, do you?" Walter started walking back to the house.

"Don't worry, only a handful of servants were buried here on the grounds. Most of the staff is put to rest in various cemeteries over London and all the actual Hellsings are entombed either in Germany or in Sir Integra's estate in Wales. " Well, at least that was a comforting thought- she wouldn't be running into an un-dead, vengeful Van Hellsing who wanted to put a pike through her heart. Seras made a little puff of relief and began to follow the rest of her troupe back in, when Pip called out to her from behind. She turned and saw him with a small bundle in hand, pressed tightly against his chest.

"What in the world do you have there?," she asked, seeing the bundle squirm. He looked at her sheepishly.

"Well, I um, found this little guy, and I think we should bring him in, too." The Captain stated. Seras gingerly lifted the moth- eaten blanket and was greeted by a pair of hollow sockets, and set of near smiling jaws. A small skeleton dog-perhaps a terrier or toy breed in its lifetime, yipped playfully at her , its bony tail wagging. She gazed at the creature, then back up at the Frenchman, shaking her head in disbelief.

"This is just too, damn, strange." she proclaimed. Pip laughed.

"Come on, I've always wanted a dog. Besides, he's just a little weird and a lot friendlier than your Master's Hell Hounds..." Hmm, he did have a point.

"Fine, bring him in, but just remember, you're walking him. "

Elsewhere- The Catacombs, Maximilan Villa

Alucard stirred in his coffin. The night was still relatively young, but the upcoming holiday and the draining presence of the loa left him weary and parched. So far, the Crossroads Man had been sated with the promise of a new host and a few good cigars, but the vampire knew that he would have to deliver the goods, or come up with an alternative plan for the Baron. He turned on his side, exhaling deeply. As much as he did not want to leave the confines of his tomb, he ached for his master's company. While Integra had a constitution of steel, she had grown weary over the past days of keeping up with the Bishop's intentions and the constant strain of the facade- the stress from worrying about her family also drained her spirit.

Currently, Lord Andrew was sound in another level of the villa being watched over by the Iscariot nun. Alucard could sense her disgust in her leaders and read a few of her thoughts - including a rather bloody one of her disemboweling her superior. Upon that, he knew that he could trust her to quietly keep watch over the man and not to foul up any of the impending plans. Perhaps, soothing his master would not be such a bad idea- he did wonder how she reacted to his little dream-scape. While perhaps the tactics were a bit unconventional, the result was perfect; keep her out of harm's way or from becoming another_ **bon-bon**_ for the spirit. Slowly, his body dematerialized and channeled its energy and form upwards to her room.

For the exception of a light tick of the clock and the steady, hushed passing of breath, the room was peacefully still. The mottled veil of blood, mist and eyes morphed into a more humanoid form and silently made its way over to the divan, where the little nun lay sleeping, the great Hell Hound on the floor. It blinked up its crimson orbs, and its jagged jaws parted into a near-grin.

"_Shhh, " he stated," You will sleep little one, no one is here, you will hear nothing, see nothing, not wake until sunrise..." _The girl mumbled in her sleep, but rolled over and burrowed herself into her covers like a sleepy mole. He then approached his master, sliding into her bed without the slightest sound. Her pulse was still agitated from the dreams, and her body felt warmer, as if lightly touched with fever. She wore soft, pale green pyjamas, and her hair spilled across the pillow, thick gold against white. Gingerly, he traced a finger across her cheek, then down to the line of her jaw and played over the network of veins of her throat. She was so lovely when she slept; a certain softness that Integra rarely allowed to ever creep into her features was present when she rested. However, a few pale violet bruises marred the flesh of her throat. Upon another examining pull on the neckline of her top, the marks trailed down her chest and a rather large one bloomed on her right breast. A silent rage burned in Alucard's mind- how dare he! How dare the impure, disgusting _beast _touch what was his! While he knew she possessed no feelings for that man, the thought of his lips on hers, his mouth against her flesh, him knowing how she tasted and smelled made his heart go black. His fingers dug a bit possessively into her shoulders, causing his master to stir. He loosened his touch and reminded himself, that though he may have laid claim to her heart, Integra belonged to no one other than _herself_.

"_Composure," he reminded himself, "Composure.," _

A mischievous thought did enter his mind, though, the poor dear had hurt herself and did deserve a bit of comfort... as her guardian, it was his duty to provide such services. (After all, she had not minded him pecking her wounds when she was little. ) Gently, he leaned in and kissed the marks that trailed over her throat. Sir Hellsing started twitching slightly under the pressure of his lips. The slick tip of his tongue alighted over the bruise and she released a sweet, little sigh. Her hands shifted up, expecting to feel air, but instead grasped the wild locks of hair that spilled over. Slowly her eyes opened, as he began to shift his attentions lower.

"I thought you were another dream...", she whispered. A sly look played over her servant's features.

"Dreams, what dreams? I have no idea what you are talking about. ," he stated innocently. She kissed the tip of his nose.

"You are a horrible liar..."

"But an excellent servant- I merely came into comfort you, after all, you have had such a trying day." She allowed him entry under the mounds of blankets, and the pair settled into one another. He continued to kiss her neck and tugged at the collar of her bedclothes.

"You're bruised," he breathed. Sir Hellsing pulled his face upwards to hers.

"Just trying to 'make-it-better'?"

"Of course." Slowly, she unbuttoned the first two notches, and allowed his mouth to graze, butterfly kisses delicate and soft. Another button popped, lips edging towards her heart. Meanwhile, his hands dipped to un- knot the pants. Her right hand defensively grasped his and pushed it to the side.

"I assure you, there are no bruises there." Her vampire pouted ,looking like a child denied his treat.

"Two more buttons then...," he pleaded.

"Fair enough." However, the creature was never very good at arethmetic; the poor top just ran out of buttons...


	40. Chapter 40

Mesh

Somewhere, deep in the darkest corners of the catacombs, the spirits stirred. An electric energy channeled through the hollow bones and empty skulls of centuries past. Remains of monks and court heretics lay side by side, vibrating with thoughts in the arid, dusty air. In one of the larger, more intact coffins, the semi-corporal form of the Baron lay . The great loa was resting, his elaborate top-hat propped on top of the tomb, as not to crush its large plumes. All of the little souls were in a flurry-their chatter was endless.

"_First the vampire comes down here, and now we have him- what next?!", one commented. _

"_He frightens me!," a little voice exclaimed_

"_I think he's quite dashing .", another proclaimed," At least this one knows how to have a good time , unlike Mr. Grumpy Corpse ..." A deep chuckle resounded from a few skeletons. _

"_Right now, he's upstairs with his lady.", a deep timbre informed. A few bawdy hoots peeled forth. _

"_Poor, old girl didn't stand a chance!," a female tone laughed_

"_Maybe he'll be in a better mood from now on!," another hoped. _

"_Lord, I miss sex..." another bemoaned. _

"_Me too...", a small chorus lamented. Then, there was a pause. _

"_Um, what's sex like ?," a priest's skull inquired. An uncomfortable hush spread over the room..._

Elsewhere- The Conservatory, Maximilian Villa

A small group gathered up for the impending lecture, waiting for the speaker. Five, ten, fifteen minutes ticked by, indicating lateness. Convention goers grew restless and made bee lines for the coffee carafes and buffet. With each passing moment, the Arch Bishop's patience was wearing thin. Sir Integra was the speaker for this short, starting panel on " Researching the Supernatural." She had never come down from her room, and he was begining to wonder if she was feeling the same after-effects of the previous night ; his own head still felt stuffed, as if loaded with cotton, and a cup of weak tea and dry toast was all he could stomach at the moment. As the crowd filtered out of the conservatory, Enrico contemplated going up to her bedroom to see how the woman was faring , when he realized that he needed to make use of the downtime. Tonight would be the completing phase in his plans, the sealing of two of the most powerful households in modern religious times. So much had to still be prepared: the documents, deeds and of course, the rings. He had a little jewelry shop in town that had served his family for generations, busily putting the finishing touches on them. Perhaps before noon ,he could slip out and pick them up before the rush of last minute Christmas shopping. A servant could retrieve them, but he wanted to inspect the pieces himself; they needed to be flawless. His clothes for the ball also had to be laid out and pressed. Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell glanced at the Rabbi who had wanted his attention so desperately at supper the other night. He sighed.

"_Best to speak to that aggravating man now and get it over with.", he thought. _He made his way over to the elderly Rabbi Shevi and greeted him warmly.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to do this interview, Bishop Maxwell.," the man exclaimed, "It will be such an insightful piece !We need to have as much positive input from as many different leaders of faith to promote peace and understanding in these turbulent times, wouldn't you agree?" Enrico nodded and grinned, his mind drifting elsewhere, not really giving a damn about what this un-baptized twit thought...

Elsewhere-

Lord Andrew turned and twisted his body upwards, arching his back and releasing a wide yawn. In spite of all the madness, this was the first night he had been able to get decent sleep all week. When he went to steady himself upwards, his right hand nestled on something rather warm and soft. Now, if he had been back home nestled in his own bed with his wife , the occurrence would have been met with a good bout of randy cheer and pre-breakfast shagging. However here, the sudden feeling of a form fabricated next to his caused him to nearly jump out of bed. When the waking shock had worn off, Andrew focused his eyes and withdrew some of the covers; lying next to him, wrapped up in a neat, little ball was the Iscariot nun. She was still dressed in her uniform, though her habit and glasses lay on the night stand , and curled up in her hands, like a child cradling a doll in its sleep was a taka, sheathed, but her hand poised over the hilt. He thought about rousing her, but did not want to be slashed in a waking frenzy, so he spoke her name a few times, gaining volume.

She began to stir and only when she had cracked open her eyes did Lord Hellsing gently press on her shoulder. The young woman began to slowly rise and rubbed her eyes. She drew back a little as to give them both some breathing room.

"Good morning.," he stated. She yawned and shook her head .

"Good morning.," she replied. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes, thank you. " For a moment he studied her- Sister Yumiko had a sweet face and rather bright eyes. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who almost killed him a day ago.

"You pretty much passed out as soon as we got here. I took off your shoes and your tie , but I figured that it would be okay to leave you in your suit."

"Quite understandable. What is the game plan for today?"

"Since today's Christmas Eve, the whole house is going to be busy with mass, ending the convention, and the masked ball tonight. We should be able to obtain the documents while keeping a low profile, and blow the whole damn lid off this place. "

"Are you sure you want to help me? I mean after all, once you turn against Iscariot, won't they come after you?" Andrew asked. "There's no turning back."

Yumiko shook her head and laughed.

"Not if they can't find me. This is no longer the organization that I once believed in- what Bishop Maxwell did is unforgivable. I can only hope that God will guide me, and Yuzu will aid me."

"Yuzu?" he inquired. The little nun held up the weapon and unsheathed it in a flash of silver and light. The blade was perfectly sharpened and the young man could see his reflection in it as clearly as a hand mirror.

"I see."

"I'll try and contact Hime and Father Anderson later to see if they want to stay or go. If I know Father Alexander, I'm sure he has more than an inkling as to what is going on. One cannot serve two masters, but you can certainly find a new one if your first is a jackass." Andrew could not help but smile.

"Is that a proverb, Sister?"

"Nope- common sense."

Elsewhere-

Integra felt a gentle warmth tickling the back of her neck .As she shifted, there was a tight, comforting pull around her shoulders as she was pressed closer. One lazy eye opened and she could make out the form of an arm, a rather pale one, settling over her bare skin, angling its way down protectively over her torso, the long fingers curled around a breast. Her pyjama top was pooled around her head; just to be certain of their presence, she checked to see if her pants were still there- low slung, untied, but intact. Gingerly, she reached a hand back and felt smooth skin, the slope of a ribcage and the dip of a waist. Thick fabric clothed the hips, but the ends of a belt folded over. As her hands explored, the sensation on the base of her neck began again; a light, teasing flick , soft pressure from a pair of lips, and then a slight pinch as a little nibble nicked the skin. The hand stroked and caressed her chest, the thumb brushing against the peaks, making her emit a little purr, as her own palm slid up into a mass of silky, unruly hair. She turned and met the half- closed eyes of her servant.

"Good morning.," the creature stated with a grin. There was a look of pure contentment on the vampire's face and though his trousers were still on, his chest was bare , marred by a few , deep splotches of burgundy. Gently, Integra ran her fingers over the wounds.

"Your handiwork, my lady."

"I did that?," His finger tapped her lips.

"With your sharp, little fangs.," he mused. "Do you want to see what you did to my neck?" Alucard lifted the mass of ebony hair from the side of this throat revealing several marks, one so dark it almost looked black. A look of guilt washed over her face. He cuddled her up and pecked her nose and forehead.

"_Sorry.," Sir Hellsing mentally whispered. _

"_Don't be- it was well worth it- apparently, you bite when you cum..." _

_The woman pulled back for a moment, cheeks flushed._

"_I asked you not to go - ," she started. Her bed-mate rubbed his nose to hers._

"_I didn't- you did. You straddled me half the night, rubbed me raw- I feel like a worn saddle." Integra released a sigh of defeat and turned from him. A finger hooked her chin and brought her gaze back to Alucard's _

" _Come now, you're still the Iron Maiden, you just shed a few pieces of armor last night, that's all" Her hand reached up over his cheek. _

"_And what about you? I mean, did you, er, get anything out of it?" He held up her wrist, the wounds slightly raised and reddened ._

"_More than you realize." He licked the inside of her palm and then brushed a kiss across her mouth . She returned the gesture with gusto, shifting on top of him, breasts brushing over his chest, while her own digits caressed the firm line of his torso. _

"_You may have won the battle , but I'm going to win the war..." she teased. Hands roamed over her back and the curve of her shoulders _

" _What - 'The Battle of Chastity Hill'?" A wicked grin spread over her face as she pressed against his lap, causing him to draw breath sharply. _

"_I would say that it's more like 'The Battle of the Bulge', wouldn't you?"_

The pair rolled in the sheets, nipping , kissing, completely wrapped up in each other. When fingers began to wander into more private terrain , Sir Hellsing let out a gasp- she had not expected it to be so loud, but a stirring then came from behind her. Quickly, the woman covered herself with the blanket Cautiously, she peered around , to see the form of Mariana twisting in her sleep on the divan in the corner. The woman turned bright red and slapped her paramour's shoulder.

"She's been here the whole time?!," Integra hissed. Her servant merely shrugged and smiled.

"Don't worry, I put her to sleep last night, she hasn't heard a single thing..." He reached up to reclaim her mouth, when his mate lifted off him and began to re-dress. When her eyes caught sight of the clock, she cursed and then sprinted to the bathroom. The sounds of water running and cabinets slamming ensued.

"Dammit! I was supposed to be up over and hour and a half ago! I missed my panel! " while she continued her ranting, Alucard merely sighed and propped his head back up against the pillow , arms folded under his hair. His loins throbbed and disappointment washed over him. So close, and yet, always so far off.

"_I swear, the day it finally happens, I'm going to celebrate and smoke one of her cigars..." he thought. _His sharp ears pricked up and indicated panic coming from the next room.

Frantically, Integra burst out of the toilette, eyes scanning the room. She was now dressed in a grey, tweed suit with a knee-length skirt, the buttons of her dress shirt still open and her tie draped over her neck.

"Where is it?" she demanded."Where in Hell did it go to?"

"What?" She held up her bare wrist.

"The rosary, the charm- I've worn it ever since I found it- where is it?" The vampire leaned over to the night stand and pulled out the crystal talisman.

"It was getting snagged on my hair , so I took it off you.," he stated. "It also has a very foul aura to it- I suggest purification as quickly as possible. "

"And whom do you suggest does that?," The creature cast a knowing grin.

Elsewhere-

Angelique Le Chat sat silently listening to the maddening tick of the clock on the wall, its every motion reminding her of empty time, endlessly progressing. She had been alive for several centuries now, her vast powers cheating death and allowing her to survive through times of war and crisis, ages of servitude and serenity, to go from simple disciple to master of her own fate. She had traveled from Martinique to, Europe to the coasts of New England, exploring much in her near immortality. She exhaled deeply and thought of the day that brought her to Haiti and to the man who would become her husband. She had previously had dozens of lovers and trysts, even marrying well over two centuries prior. That escapade had been brought upon my spells and influence, this love-match was of her own making. She found him attractive and witty, he found her lovely and composed. Her confession to practicing magikal arts was met by his own statement on his priesthood in Voodoo. Together, their deep love of Prince-au-Port's children brought them into an even deeper union . Now, that union had been dissolved like dust against the wind.

While the knowing of his offenses softened his killing, it by no means eased the ache of his _death_. Telling the children would be the worst; a few had already asked where he was on this Christmas Eve, and out of frustration and desperation, Angelique merely managed a slight smile and the cryptic words of, "We'll talk after tomorrow, poupees." Their hearts would be broken, just as hers had been. The only other feeling that edged into her gut was that of revenge. At first, it was towards the vampire who had dispatched her mate, but it began to creep and merge into a redirected anger towards the Arch Bishop. At first, his request was simple enough- create a charm, curse a noble woman's family, teach him how to make a few love potions to win her over. That was fine- fair enough business. But, to have to Baron be turned into craving the essences of her own children? Disgusting. Unforgivable. Making this bastard pay would be a pleasure. A slight noise caught her ears; a scurrying of something light and hard against the wood of the floor. The woman looked down to see a pool of centipedes with eyes like cinders maneuvering towards her. The sight of the foul creatures did not move her in the slightest-she knew who was coming to pay a visit.

"And what do I deserve the pleasure of your company, ghoul." she stated as the beasts towered into a human shape. Alucard leaned into a small bow and drew close. His hair was long and pulled back into a braid that nearly hung to his waist. While the scarlet coat was missing, the rest of his suit attire was present, giving him a gentlemanly air. He plunked the circlet of glass down on her lap.

"I believe that this belongs to you, Le Chat. Are you still craving the avenging of your family?" His voice was a tantalizing offer.

"Yes." she replied, eyes closed, hands clenched over the charm. He stepped a pace nearer.

"What do you need to reverse the spell?"

"Samples of the Bishop's hair, his blood, sweat, or any other fluids from his body. Fingernail clippings will work as well."

"So be it- you will have these things within a few hours. My thanks." The vision of the man faded like mist, and Angelique clutched the gris-gris in her hand like a skeleton key to unlock her vengeance.

"Poor Old Girl..." thanks Black Fang...very British sounding of you... :)

Taka - A short, sharp Japanese sword.


	41. Chapter 41

Bizarre Love Triangle 2

_(Sorry for the delay-so-much-work... the short stories were a great way to get back into writing something that's not a lesson plan or a term paper- fear not, only a few more chapters to go....) _

Christmas Eve Afternoon- Hellsing Manor, London

Chatter echoed through the halls and the sounds of classic Big Band music played throughout the rooms. The kitchen staff were working overtime- kettles and pots bubbling over, packages of seasonal fruitcake being brought in from the baker's , several Christmas geese roasting golden brown in the oven while the pungent aroma of Yorkshire Pudding wafted through the space. Hearty laughter boomed from the study and the faint strains of piano drifted in and out of the din. This was the type of holiday Walter remembered from his youth, when Lord Arthur would have a huge gathering filled with food, friends, and fondness until the wee hours of the morning. However, usually the party-goers were still living.... No matter, a holiday was a holiday and the man continued spicing the mulled wine. While he felt secure in his decision to have his 'guests' here, Walter still felt it best to keep them sated with tea, cakes, and strong alcohol. The soldiers were still wary of the company, holed up downstairs in the barracks- only Seras and Bernadette were brave enough to be social. Adam approached the butler carrying a small tea set. He tugged on the retainer's sleeve gently to gain attention.

"Mr. Dornez, can you please go into the study and give Mr. Houlden his tea?"

"Adam, I'm extremely busy in here- why can't you go?" The boy shot him a nervous look.

"Because he's scaring the hell out of me, sir. Every time he drinks a cup, it comes out his ribs! It's just too creepy!" Walter sighed- he could be such a silly, little twit at times. (By the time _he_ was fourteen he could deal with the household vampire sucking down an entire case of blood packets and not even bat an eye.... young people these days, no stomach at all.... ) He huffed and grabbed the tray from the exasperated boy and made his way down the hallway. He opened the heavy door and was greeted by the skeleton smoking a pipe and relaxing in an over-stuffed chair. When he had been alive, some of their best conversations had been accompanied by a haze of thick smoke. The pipe brought back some good memories.

"Here you are ,Sir." Walter stated, placing the tea set in front of him. "Please excuse Adam, he's a bit shy around newcomers."

"Well, wouldn't you be jumpy with the risen dead around you, chap, or has life here at Hellsing gotten you accustomed to such events?" Walter laughed.

"Afraid that I must admit to the later." The hollow sockets were fixed on the oil portrait that hung near the end of the wall; a noble image of Sir Hellsing on her seventeenth birthday in formal ceremonial attire.

"I would take it that this is the newest head of the organization, Arthur's daughter?" Walter nodded and poured a cup of Oolong , adding three lumps of sugar, keeping the spoon in. A grateful grin spread over Mr. Houlton's jaws.

"Thank you for remembering. Is she anything like the old man?"

"Not in the way you may recall Lord Hellsing- no drinking ,no carousing, no line of suitors- she lives for her work. " Mr. Houlton chuckled, his laughter sounding thin and dry, like a light gust of autumn breeze.

"And where is the Lady of the House as we speak?,"

"She's in Italy, attempting to reconcile some issues with the Catholics."Slowly, a small puddle of amber fluid began to drip down the chair and onto the floor. Another long gulp was taken , until Mr. Houlton looked a bit sheepishly down at his waist, a dark stain spreading over his vest.

"Sorry about that..." Walter merely nodded, bent and wiped the puddle up. "The Catholics you say..." the skeleton questioned.

"Yes, they do tend to make a bit of a fuss every now and then, and we have to come in and do our best to settle them down."

Elsewhere-

"_Settle down, settle down...." Integra chimed to herself over and over. "It's only a dress, a dress, a piece of clothing..." _It was a sumptuous, exquisitely made article hanging over her wardrobe door- a cream-coloured, Veincian lace gown with a high, button-up neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and a full skirt gusseted with a Victorian bustle in the back. The fabric had a rose pattern intricately woven into the delicate fiber and even the buttons had been hand-carved out of pearl. Any woman would have felt like a queen in that frock, however Sir Hellsing felt the slow burn of rage edge up into her throat.

"It's a wedding gown, a bloody, fucking _wedding _gown!", she spat, pronouncing the 'wedding' aspect with as much piss and vinegar as she could muster. With a violent swing, she grabbed the dress off the hanger and was quite tempted to rip it down the middle when a smooth voice calmed her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mon ami.." The woman spun around to face Mrs. Le Chat, clad in black, standing somberly in the doorway.

"I didn't hear you enter." She shrugged and smiled briefly.

"It's hard to hear anything when you're cursing to yourself." There was a beat of silence before she began again. "We need to discuss business."

"Really, and what would you like to do next? Turn my family into newts, or perhaps a river of blood through my manor?"Her eyes narrowed and she approached the witch without fear. Angelique sighed and retrieved the talisman from her pocket, the glass gleaming in the lamplight.

"I'm going to be reversing the charm on Maxwell, however, I do need your aid in obtaining a few items from him in order to transfer the curses."

Integra grew impatient. "Such as?"

The woman took on a pensive look.

"Finger nail clippings, hair, spit , blood, or any_ other _bodily fluids that could be extracted."she rattled off. Sir Hellsing scrunched up her nose at the last request, conjuring up rather distasteful images in her mind.

"Well, that last one would be pretty easy to obtain knowing how passionately he feels towards you...." Angelique stated with a hint of mischief

"No thank you. I must decline ." Integra replied flatly. Something felt odd-this change of heart was out of place- why was this woman now suddenly altering her motives?

"Just _why_ are you doing this, Le Chat- isn't it your job to hex me, or is this some sort of mental play that you and your employer are enjoying?" Angelique averted her gaze.

"I have my reasons, Sir Hellsing. Besides, do you really wish for this evening's plans to commence?" Integra shook her head. "Then I suggest that we work together on this or you will be going off on your honeymoon before tomorrow. Also, your cousin is safe and on the premises with your servant and the warrior nun. If I were you, I would make not mention of it to Maxwell. I'm sure that Andrew will see you soon enough. I need these materials before the ball this evening-you have a few hours, make them count, Sir Hellsing " While she did not trust the woman, it was better to attempt something to alter any other curses- sabotaging the nuptials she could handle, but magick was out of her area of expertise. The women bowed civilly to each other , and Mrs. Le Chat exited as silently as she had entered. Integra released a heavy sigh.

"This just keeps on getting stranger and stranger..." she muttered. The door of her toilette creaked behind her.

"Is she gone, is it safe to come out?", Mariana asked shakily.

"Yes, she's gone, don't be afraid." The girl crept closer with a queer look in her eyes.

"Miss Integra, I heard what she needs, and I want to be the one to help you retrieve it." Sir Hellsing was taken a back a bit from the girl's request.

"But why? I thought that you needed to get out of this house and back to Sienna as soon as possible?" Gingerly, she took Sir Hellsing's hands into hers.

"I have never held a grudge or wished revenge on anybody in my life, but this man needs to be stopped. This isn't a vendetta, but an intervention. I'll do this myself." Marinara's gaze never left her eyes, a bright determination smoldering within.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Besides, this will be easier than you think...."

Elsewhere-

The rings were perfect , absolutely perfect; two gold circles representing an endless unity of love and devotion. They gleamed against the deep velvet of their case like twin beams of nova light in the darkness. By midnight, all would be said and done, the unification between the Catholics and Protestants completed and the entire Hellsing Organization ripe for the picking.... Enrico could not help but to grin and feel immensely proud of himself. The child that no one had wanted, the little boy with a hole in his heart was now going to topple-quite literally- the main opposition to the Iscariot Organization once and for all. He closed the box with a snap and tucked it deep into the folds of his coat. Enrico cast a glance to the clock endlessly pacing out the day on the wall and smiled- it was Christmas Eve and he would be receiving his presents a little early this year...

The handguns were perfect, absolutely perfect; two, steely grey, compact pieces that could easily rip a hole through flesh and decimate bone. Their magazines were loaded, cases polished, and were going to make one hell of a newlywed gift. Andrew could not help but to feel a surge of pride swell up inside him; he had his 'girls' with him for a very long time- Lucy for eight years, and Rita for nearly ten. Like loyal comrades, they had served him well, and now he felt almost obligated to pass their service along to his cousin, if he could find her. Right now, the vampire was leading him straight to Integra. Silently, the trio headed down the halls of the West Wing.

"I don't care much for guns, neither does Father Alexander.", the little nun chimed. Andrew held up Lucy and grinned.

"I wouldn't leave home without mine- they're kind of like family at this point. Wouldn't you agree, Alucard, a good gun is like your best friend." The vampire said nothing in return, but merely raised up one of his own pistols, the Jackal, and made a sharp clicking noise. Sister Yumiko huffed.

"_Men and their guns- what the bloody hell are they compensating for..." she thought Alucard turned, and caught her eye. _

"_Tsk,tsk, nuns shouldn't think such risque things...." Yumiko gasped. The vampire's laughter echoed inside her skull. _

"_How, how are you inside my head!?"_

_The minds of the innocent are always easy to read- it's the other one that's secretive- she's not open at all...." _The nun blushed and shot Alucard a defensive look. He merely let a sly grin slip past his lips, and continued to lead them down the hall.

Meanwhile-

Father Lumi had been transported discreetly and quickly, thanks to the aid of an extremely potent sedative. The dosage would have put a normal man into coma, but seeing his already desperate condition, anything was an improvement. Father Anderson's heart sank to see his fellow Brother -in -Christin such a sorry state, but what else could he do? The man was in the Lord's hands now- he had too much of the world resting in his palms currently. Under his vestiges, documents were copied and folded, including the original marriage contracts. Now, all he had to do was get them to the Protestant Knight without being seen....

Elsewhere-

"Hey stop that-it tickles!," Seras laughed as the little ghost dog 'lapped' at her hands. While there was no tongue to speak of, she could still feel the light licking sensation, as if it was still present. She sat cross-legged on the parlour floor as the little terrier bounced around her knees, attempting to crawl onto her lap She held the creature up at arms length and cooed.

"What a good boy you are, yes you are...." A whistle came from behind; the little sailor boy, whose name was Edmund, called for his puppy. The creature wriggled and the vampire put him down gently, as he bounded over to his master.

"You don't mind if I have him for a bit, do you Miss Seras?", Edmund asked.

"Not at all-just keep him out of the music room if Miss Meena is practicing, okay?" he nodded and bounded off with his pet. Walter side-stepped the boisterous pair and entered with two cups of hot chocolate in hand. Seras rose, brushed down her jeans, and smiled.

"Is this for me?", she asked. The butler nodded and handed off the steaming cup. She took a sip and grinned.

"Delicious-thank you."

"How are you holding up with all this commotion?,"

"Actually, I like all the noise- these people are quite friendly and the stories I've heard are amazing!",she replied with a peal of laughter.

"I received a call from Lord Andrew and Sir Hellsing- the mission appears to be more under control than we thought, and hopefully this is the last of the supernatural escapades." Seras cocked a brow.

"I wouldn't count on that just yet, Mr. Dornez." A clattering came from the hallway as a small, half-drunken group of military-clad corpses with a ruddied Captain Bernadette, his arm wrapped around one of the 'soldiers' for support.

"Hey Mignonette,", he slurred, "you would not _believe_ shome of the war stories these guys have-not to mention the games. Do ya want ta ' play 'Jellyroll'- I think I'm winning...." He began to wobble over, caught by a rather embarrassed -looking troop dressed in what appeared to be a WWII uniform.

"Do you want me to lay him down miss?", he asked Seras rolled her eyes and nodded, indicating the sofa in the corner of the room. The corpses dragged Pip over and plunked him down, sending the plush cushions flying.

"Come on, Walter, let's give him some peace, besides, now that we have a few moments, let's see if there's any more snow outside."

Elsewhere-

Maximilian Villa, the Bed Chamber of Enrico Antonio Cervantes Maxwell

He smoothed out the velvet, brushing the elaborate beading that ran down the collar. The jacket was a reproduction of a 18th century opera costume for "Don Juan"; the frock coat was a sumptuous shade of plum with rich bronze embroidery on the turned collar and cuffs. The shirt was ivory silk complete with a thick ruff of lace at the neck, a perfect gentleman's touch. His pants were black, crushed velvet and the boots polished to a mirror sheen. A thin, angled domino mask lay on the dresser to add a touch of mystery. Maxwell held the costume up to his chin and gazed at himself in the wardrobe mirror.

"_Damn, I look good." he thought. _His bride would be radiant and he wished to be as equally ravishing. He hopped that she had found the dress lovely- everything was laid out for her, including the wedding shoes and a lacy peignoir set, for the events to partake later.. He attempted to keep his lascivious thoughts in check, when the door creaked open slowly. Enrico saw _her_ reflection in the mirror. She slipped in quietly, wrapped in a thick, knitted blanket. His face dropped

"Mar- Marinara?!" Maxwell was dumbstruck. Slowly, she approached him, an endearing smile on her face, and the blanket gradually slipping from her shoulders. Within a few steps, the girl was next to him.

"How did you- " his words were cut off by her pulling her arms around his neck , touching her nose against his.

"I woke up after being out a few days, did you miss me?" she asked.

"You don't remember anything?" The girl snuggled in deeper, her breath warm on his cheek. The costume fell away, pooling up in the space between them

"Everything went black and when I came to, I was informed of your wedding, my dearest..."

"I, well, er...." he stammered. Something was not quite right-shouldn't she be cursing him for the abuse, the delivery into Le Chat's hands? This had to be a ploy, a trap, some kind of sick joke, but the heat radiating off her skin and the light scent of rose water pricked up his interests. _Also, was she wearing anything under the wraps.... _Common sense screamed in the back of his mind, but the tickling pressure of her fingers along his neck silenced that voice, increasing the volume of his lusts.

"Aren't you upset?" She sighed and gazed up at him with soft, liquid eyes.

"I understand, really I do, _cara mia_. I know that it's just a political union, but you do have your duty to perform.... besides, it's best for me to go back to my hometown." The covering angled down lower, a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage peeking through. " Can't I say good bye to you personally?" Lips brushed over the pulse of his throat and grazed over his chin. The last threads of his self-control snapped when she revealed her bare, nubile figure. He delved into her mouth, hands groping and grasping as the pair began to sink onto the floor. Brazenly, she rolled on top of him, pinning his arms down. He was shocked, but delighted at her forceful display of affection, and relished the feel of her thighs pressed against his hips. Marinara ran her fingers roughly through his hair, snagging a few strands .

"Ouch! Can you be a bit more gentle with me?", he asked. A wicked grin curled up on her lips.

"I thought that it might be fun to try something a little..._different _for a change...." she purred, wrapping his hands tightly around her waist.

"I see. So, you want to give me a night I won't forget, hmm?" The girl leaned in and whispered.

"Not for a very, very long time....."

Jellyroll- A WWII drinking game played by both French and English troops alike- have a sweet, take a drink, take a sweet, have a drink. Usually played in a set of four people-it's kind of like 'truth-or-dare', but with the sweets. The objective is too either finish a complete plate of cookies, chocolate or other confectionaries, or to become completely pickled. Silly, but I'm sure it had its purpose to keep morale boosted. I heard of this from a friend's veteran uncle....


	42. Chapter 42

Blue Monday

_(Just a little tribute to Lea Hernandez's Texas Steam punk here- if you get a chance, go out and read 'Clockwork Angels'- really great stuff....) _

Guests began to filter in, a whirlwind of colour, dazzle and radiant plumage, as if a flock of rare birds had migrated to the Villa for the Winter. Capes swished, sequins sparkled, and feathers floated off of elaborate masks. Velvet gowns glittered with silver spangles, like night skies filled with comets. Doublets and breeches strode into the room, as if a renaissance banquet was taking place, while the visages of beasts and fantastic creatures came alive on the faces of the party-goers. A pair of awe-struck, little eyes viewed the spectacle with wonder from the stairwell.

"When can we go downstairs to the party?", Margarete asked her friend Hellene, a little girl a year her senior. The girl shrugged and pointed to a particularly elaborate costume in the style of Marie Antoinette, complete with a be-jeweled, piled-high wig.

"Will ya look at that one!", she squealed. The little girl glanced down at her own lovely, yet much simpler party dress. "I wish I had a dress like that.."

"Oh, I like mine, it's red." proclaimed Maggie, flaring out her skirts.

"Why red?" Maggie looked thoughtfully at her companion.

" I'll be easier for Santa to notice me , and then I'll get my presents, and I can give Santa his cookies!"

"Do you thing that Santa will really come here all the way to Italy?"

"Sure, you remember what Father Andrew said-he'll know that we're here, Santa sees everything." Hellene paused.

"Um, Maggie, I think he was talking about Jesus...."

Meanwhile, Up- Stairs-

As the Arch Bishop was left breathless by his intimate farewell, Sir Hellsing, gasped and muttered complaints as she fastened the last, few difficult buttons at her throat. The dress fit like a second skin, the pale lace accentuating her deep colouring, making her glow. The bustle gave the illusion of fuller hips,and for the first time in her life, Integra had an hourglass figure. Her hair had been pulled up into a simple bun, a twisted knot of gold against the cream. She was the picture of grace and gentility, until she struck a cigar, gnashed it between her straight teeth and spat out a thick cloud.

"_I look like a bloody doll..." _she thought with contempt.

"_One with poison in its porcelain ..." her servant's voice countered. _Integra turned to the door to see half of her vampire phasing through. When he was completely materialized, the door opened slowly. Her cousin followed close behind with the Iscariot nun.

"Andrew!" she cried, rushing forwards to embrace him. The pair hugged tightly, but he hushed her.

"Why are you here?"

"Originally, to call that prat out on his actions, but he thought he'd play Evil Genius and try to keep me hostage." Integra studied the bump on his nose and some mild bruising turning violet.

"Did he do this to you?" she asked angrily.

"No, I'm afraid that I did that, or ur, Yumie actually did.," the little nun chimed in. Integra was confused-what was Maxwell's berserker doing here? Alucard stood back a few feet observing, enjoying the interaction between the humans.

"What is she doing with you?" Integra said suspiciously.

"She's tagging along and coming back to England with us. Also, we confronted Le Chat." Andrew informed.

"She was just here, explaining how she's going to reverse the hex- I still don't know how well that will turn over, but Marinara is attempting to aid us as we speak." Sister Yumiko's eyes lit up.

"She's still here? How is she-what happened to her?" Yumiko asked.

"It's along story. We need you back at the Manor. Walter said that he has been having some , unexpected visitors. "

" Like what-more zombies?" Andrew inquired. Integra nodded.

"Resurrection spells- apparently Maxwell was hoping for a much more violent company, but all appears well. Now, I will be attending this little fiasco, hopefully buying you enough time to leave and take whatever paperwork that is necessary with you. If you can't, I'll do it myself." Lord Hellsing rummaged through his coat and pulled out one of his pistols.

"Here-a wedding gift for you. Take Rita in case you need her for later. " The Colt fit perfectly into his cousin's hand. She cocked it and grinned.

"Thank you. This is better than a crystal vase. I'll make sure that I don't let on that I've seen you ." He pecked her quickly and exited with the good sister. The vampire was left with his master, gazing at her up and down. Alucard glanced at her with an odd, nearly sentimental look in his eyes. Sir Hellsing stood still, as her servant approached her slowly, leaning his lanky frame down, brushing her cheek with his lips.

"You make a lovely bride." he whispered. The intense heat from his breath caressed her skin. Pink tinged her cheeks, but her comment was steeped in brine.

"I cannot wait to burn this thing." she countered. His fingers tapped her nose playfully.

"Hopefully once your out of it. Let me help you with that." Nimble fingers began to reach for the pearl buttons. Integra intercepted his hands and kissed his fingertips.

"Ready to leave this place?"she asked.

"Yes, but not quite yet." He guided her over to the pair of great bay windows, leading out onto the balcony. The moonlight shone silvery, casting its luminous glow across her cheeks and made her eyes orbs of starlight. They kissed tenderly, his determined fingers beginning to open the fastenings at her neck. She had remembered her dreams from months gone by; snow, moonlight, a white dress and unbuttoning... it all seemed too surreal....Alucard took a small object wrapped in aged, ragged cotton,, and held it up to the light like a precious artifact.

"When I was a young knight, I always went into battle with two weapons- they were my life lines, my defenses against the madness around me. One was my father's long sword, the other was this." Gingerly, he placed the yellowing cloth in his master's palm. The woman unwrapped it, as if picking apart an eggshell. Under the fabric was a thick, dull grey band-plain, simple, baring no inscriptions, but was perfectly smooth and formed. Integra studied the ring.

"It's steel." she stated. The vampire smiled.

"This was the dagger I kept under my armor, over my heart. It saved my life on numerous occasions when the enemy drew close." The creature brought up his master's left hand encrusted with the gaudy ruby . Slowly, he tan his tongue over the base of her finger, wetting the flesh. With a sharp pull, the engagement ring slid off, and Integra was finally free of Enrico's bondage. Gazing deep into her eyes, he spoke the next few words with solemn honesty.

"May this ring always keep you from harm, may it prove to be a sign of devotion, love, protection and my unfailing belief in you." Alucard slipped it over her knuckle. His master gently touched his cheek.

"Wear it all the days of your life."

"I will." she replied, a kiss sealing their vows. Hands slipped over the lace of her dress and the silk of her skin....

Meanwhile-

The International Bureau for Children's Welfare was having a field day. Reports had been faxed with incriminating evidence indicating that the missing persons cases from Haiti and Mexico were being linked up to not only St. Augustine's Orphanage in Price-Au-Port Haiti, but to a small sector in Rome out of the Vatican . While the Iscariot Organization was still a fairly unknown religious sect, it had enough contact with the outside world to merit attention. Also, several large donations had been directly not from papal funds, but from the private finances from one Arch Bishop Enrico Maxwell. Apparently, thousands of dollars had been contributed to a "Special Needs" foundation which took in children with emotional or mental disabilities or educational needs beyond that of what their foster homes or place of address could deal effectively with. The good Bishop was supposedly making progress with them. The reports had seemed vague and a little too good to be true. Director Peter Fram thumbed through the mountain of casework on his desk, groaning and rubbing his temples. He was getting too damn old for this kind of work. Here it was Christmas Eve, and was he home snug with his own family gathered round a blazing fireplace sipping eggnog? Of course not-he was chugging down stale coffee and mulling over an endless sea of papers.

"_Just remember who you're doing this for...", his inner conscience minded him. _Fram was a voice for those who had none, for the poor, the helpless. Whenever he felt groggy and miserable, he thought of his own two daughters . It was sad, dirty, draining work at times, but completely worth it. With a sigh, he re-opened the paper work, a joint effort between him and the Witness Protection Agency of Haiti.

This case in particular had been followed for the past three and a half years; it revolved around Martin Jean Rouge, the son of former drug king, Raoul Rouge, the infamous 'Red Barron'.The child was placed in a witness protection plan in Prince-Au-Port after the untimely death of his mother and siblings by a rival gang in an attempt to wipe out the Rouge family while the father was doing trade abroad. Barely three at the time, the St. Augustine Orphanage had been the perfect place to re-start his life under the assumed name 'Paul Estelle'. A watchman had been posted on site at the place serving as Paul's reading coach, and as a link to the Bureau and the Protection Agency. The latest news from Italy had shocked Peter; the child had been missing for days and after Rikki's confirmation, he believed foul play was at hand. And just where was the missing child - at none other than the Maximilian Villa, the legendary home of the man of in question. The Bishop seemed to have just a little too much to do with everything going wrong. The man's thoughts were punctuated with the sharp rings from his cell phone.

"This is Fram- what's up." he stated.

"Mr. Fram- we hate to inform you, but the body of Paul Estelle, a.k.a., Martin Rouge, has been found on site at the Maximilian Villa in Italy."

"When did this happen?"

"A few days ago, sir. I was not able to come out with the children with their school due to illness. I came on my own accord to watch over Mr. Estelle. Apparently, I was too late...." Regret dripped off Rikki's words.

"It's not your fault, Stevenson. Are you going to call for back -up?"

"Yes sir- the villa has contacted local police, but they seem to be keeping the entire situation under wraps. The powers here don't want to draw any attention." Fram felt his blood boil- of course they didn't want to sully their holier-than-thou appearance, arrogant bastards.....

"Do whatever you need to do, I don't care if you interrupt Christmas Mass- just bring these men in!"

"Understood, Sir!"

Elsewhere-

"So, what do you think, Father Christabello, loose, or in the traditional braid?" the Arch Bishop asked, twisting a long lock of hair over his shoulder. The elderly priest had offered to aid him with his dressing since none of his other servants could be presently found. No matter, Anderson was probably with the children, keeping the little monsters at bay. As for Sister Yumiko, he had not seen her face for a few days now-perhaps she had gotten a last minute mission and was off playing samurai in some God-forsaken, third-world country . No matter- as long as Father Alexander would be at the Alter tonight to preside over the union, that is all that concerned Enrico. Meanwhile, he had the daunting task of getting dressed for his own party. The fellow priest ran a brush over the long, pale blonde hair, smoothing it out over his shoulders. The younger man adjusted his shirt collar to cover up the minor bruising that was beginning to form on the left side of his neck. He had enjoyed his little session with Mariana, but was quite glad to see her go. After all, it was very bad manners to have your mistress at your wedding. Besides, after the other night, Integra probably wouldn't notice another hickey from the ones she had bestowed on him. Slowly, he pulled on his luxurious jacket and the finishing touch was added when his hair was pulled into a neat ponytail with a thick, velvet bow.

"My word, you look wonderful, sir." Father Christabello complimented. Maxwell smiled smugly at his own reflection. However, his ears pricked up on something.

"_Ahhhh!"_

"Did you hear that?" he asked. The older man looked puzzled.

"Hear what?" The cry pierced out again, over and over.

"Now, do you hear that, or are you deaf? What was that? Christabello shrugged.

"Doves?" he replied.


	43. Chapter 43

A Thin Veil

Music played joyously, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the stream of conversation and laughter. Men and women whirled across the marble floor , bright colours spinning, splashing against the pale tile. Hundreds of red and gold balloons festooned the tables and rose clustering in the corners of the room. Sprigs of holly and ivy decorated the banister and entwined all the way up the staircase. While the household always held an antiqueous beauty, tonight it sparked to life. It could have been a page lifted straight out of Grimm or Hans Christian Anderson come to glorious realization. Meanwhile, upstairs far from the on-going festivities, the guest bedroom lay still and peaceful.

She had always expected their inevitable union to be fierce, a clashing battle of wills and wants, dominance and demands; more like 'attempted murder*' than love making. However, Integra was delightfully surprised. She lay here, in the arms of her now appointed 'husband', fingers snagged in his unruly mop of hair, his cooling body draped over her warm one, their breathing now finally even and soft. The damn dress that had taken a half hour to put on, lay in a vanilla puddle at the foot of the bed- it was amazing just how deft the vampire's fingers were. At first, she had been hesitant to let her servant see her bare, every flaw and scar from years of battle and defense had left their impressions. While he had witnessed her arms and throat on a regular basis, more private marks tattooed her; a series of jagged claw -marks marred her mid-back, hooking down and under her rib cage stopping just short of the side of her right breast, while the remnants of a bullet wound alighted her thigh like a garter. She blushed as he took in every inch of her with his eyes.

"I'm a right mess, aren't I ?", Sir Hellsing confessed. Her mate merely began to peck at her scars.

" These are banners, proclamations of your life. A triumph of your survival here.," Alucard whispered pressing his lips to side of her neck. He grazed upwards too her temple and the ghost of her teenage injury .

"A tribute to your strong will..."

"You mean my stubbornness....." Integra corrected. The vampire hushed her with a kiss and proceeded down her shoulder to the thick band across her biceps.

"The mark of you ascension into power." Cautiously, he took her arm and brushed his tongue against the cuts and raised ridges of his feedings.

"Stigmatas of your compassion." he breathed. Pin-pricks of desire danced under her skin and her blood quickened as teeth began to nibble. She nodded her approval, but as the creature fed, her own hands slid curiously over the curves and crevices of his body; the arch of his neck and shoulders, the taut ridges of his stomach, and with a quick breath, she nervously traced her fingers under his belly, unfastening his belt. Bravery progressed to intimacy, making her partner moan and match her strokes with equal adore. Self-restraint melted and churned, slicking her thighs and igniting his ancient heart. A heated dance began , as sacred as any ceremony... She stood before him like an innocent Eve, as he knelt at the alter of her body and parted Eden with his tongue. She cried out, chanting his name like a mantra , being led into bliss over and over again with each lap. Her knees buckled and she fell back, wrapping herself around her beloved, aching for the final act in this passion play. Their lips met, the taste of salt, sex, and surrender filling her senses.

"_Yes_." was all Integra could breath, as the final pieces of virgin's armor were cast off. She had expected an animal's lust, a brutal joining, but he was tender, gentle. He took his time, stroking her face and whispering soft words, Latin, or perhaps Romanian, which swum through her head like rich wine. Pain melted and merged into a delicious friction and rose to a slow burn of pleasure. Her back arched and she pulled her arms tighter around his waist, fingers digging into the firm, sleek muscle of his lower back, edging him deeper. Even in the thick of this joy, this consuming act, he dared not bite . At the height of it, _she_ sank her own teeth into his shoulder, as if attempting to prove to herself that this moment was indeed very, _very_ real. Her mate moaned, eyes half closed as he spilled his very soul into hers.

After their passion, he fastened his arms around his bride, and nestled his head over her heart, its pace lulling him into a sense of comfort Alucard had not felt in close to a century. His sharp ears picked up on the melodies and revelry, the ball commencing into full swing. All the petty human celebrations meant nothing to him compared to lying here in the fortress of her arms. The entire, loving scene could have been swiped from a romance novella , until that is, a rather aggravated priest busted through the door.

"Dammit, twisted the lock, too much..", Anderson cursed, holding the doorknob in one hand. When his eyes gazed upon the surprise in the boudoir, he grimaced and began to vehemently swear.

"Fakin' Hell, have you no shame ,ya vile creature!" He began to stride over, teeth clenched, when he noticed the young woman underneath. Sir Hellsing began to cover herself and shot him a defiant gaze.

"Dear Lord woman, I do not want to know what perverted, pre-marital, practices ya gettin' into!" Alucard grabbed her left hand and presented the ring to his eyes.

"Actually, _post-marital_- my master was a hard nut to crack..." he smirked. Integra snatched her hand away, and glared at the priest.

"What in the world are you doing here, Father Anderson?", she demanded. His hands dipped into his vest pocket and the vampire immediately arched himself protectively over his master. Instead of a rain of blades or bullets, a manilla envelope landed on the bed. Sir Hellsing examined them-documents, deeds and a rather lengthy marriage contract, already signed by the Arch Bishop himself.

"I had wanted ta be more subtle about the delivery," he indicated the brass knob in his hand,"But I think I used a bit too much force. Everything here should allow you ta prevent what I'm sure none of us want at this point." Sir Hellsing looked up at him, still quizzical.

"Wouldn't you prefer to see my house crumble, no longer a threat to Iscariot?"

"Please, ya no threat ta me, an' if yer household is ta come crashing down on ya, it should be done by a far more fitting force than by a desperate whoremonger." Alucard arched a brow.

"Careful, such talk could be treachery."

"Don't worry your part will come in ta play, freak. I'm going ta ask a favour of ya, in order to make everything seem...believable. " The creature's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Really, and what is that?"

"Rip me ta shreds. Right before midnight , we'll get into a 'spat', so ta speak. Damage the deeds and hold up the wedding. Can ya handle yourself ta get out of the nuptials, Miss Hellsing?"

"Absolutely. You have my word. " The good father got up and nodded.

"Well, that's it then. An' while I can't say I totally approve of ya choice, young lady, I will say that it's better ta be the Devil's wife than tha' Bishop's whore." and with that, he strode out and closed the damaged door. Integra flopped back on her pillow, covering her face with her hands

"Bloody Hell", she murmured , "I just gave you permission for unadulterated mayhem and carnage., on Christmas, no less. " Her vampire pounced on top of his master, pried her fingers away and kissed her playfully.

"I know! That's why I loooooovvvve yoooouuuuu...." he sing sang, tormenting her until a smile cracked her features. "Come on now, let's get you dressed before the Bishop comes up to see what's taking you so long."

Elsewhere-

The plane ride was a bumpy, unpleasant one, and despite the two drinks that the young nun had to calm her nerves, she was still rather edgy.

"I mean, this really can't be seen as a betrayal, can it? Even the Lord says that household will be set upon by household, family member, by fellow family member if there is a difference between what is right and moral in the eyes of God." She gripped her empty shot glass tightly, as if it was a security blanket. Lord Andrew rolled his eyes. While he was sure that the girl meant well, her constant babbling was driving him slowly up a wall. The confines of the private plane kept him a captive audience. He was tired, had been held hostage by an megalomaniac , been attacked by both a zombie and a psychotic nun, and was just about ready to become a therapist- or need one himself- if the guilt talk did not stop. Not wanting to be rude, the man took a deep breath, polished off his own water and whiskey and turned to Yumiko.

"What's done is done. You do the best that you can from here ." As simple as his advice was, she seemed to ease back into her chair. A few beats of silence followed.

"You are not going to try and convert me to being Anglican once we get to England, are you?"

"Of course not." She cast him a bit of a pitiful look.

"And I won't be used as vampire bait, will I?"

"No! I mean it is a bit odd having to get used to them roaming about, but-"

"What, 'them'-there's more than just HIM?", she asked, voice cracking just a little.

"Just one more, a very nice, young lady named Seras Victoria. She works with the military unit and is around your age. You may have some things in common with her..."

"Oh great! It's a nest of vampires and monsters! What am I going to be, the virgin sacrifice?!" she panicked. Lord Hellsing began to laugh.

"Believe me, you will be in very safe company, Sister. Now, how about another drink..." He pulled out an elegant, silver flask, (a thirtieth birthday present from his brother) and offered her a sip. Without hesitation, the former Iscariot agent began to chug the liquor with lightning speed.

"Hey! Take it easy-that's strong stuff-it'll..." his warning trailed off. Best to let sleeping nuns lie.....

Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor

The little quarters were lit up festively with faux candles and strings of multi-coloured lights .It lent itself to a cheery, gaudy quality, like a child had run rampant with the strands. Holiday songs in French drifted out from the CD player and the little table in the breakfast nook was covered in a cheery, green tablecloth. Steaming plates of mashed turnips, savory , buttered corn and a bottle of red wine with twin glasses completed the festive spread. Humming to himself, the Captain attempted to keep his long hair out of the soup tureen as he dished out the thick, creamy concoction.

"C'on Vic, soup's on." he called. His fiancee came in from the living room-usually she helped him out with all cooking, but tonight, Pip wanted to prove just how much he remembered from his mum's old holiday cook book. She smiled at him, looking lovely in a snug sweater dress, a cherry red shade that went almost a little too well with the decor.

"Can I pour the wine?" she asked. He nodded and completed putting out the finishing touches to their feast; a plate of fried fish and a small, thawed medical blood pack. Seras sat down and looked at the meal before her-perhaps it wasn't the quail pate with cream sauce that Walter was capable of, but it looked appetizing none the less. She could not help but to grin as she spotted the little snowmen printed on the napkins-the brave man of war with Frosty at his table. The pair sat and began to eat, a comfortable silence before the vampire reached over and touched the Frenchman's hand.

"Thank you.", she stated softly.

"I know it's not too much, but I thought you would like it- I did cook the fish, though, I know raw meat is one thing, but raw fish leaves you cold, right? My Maumam* used to make it baked, but I figured, hell, we're in England, so let's fry it!" She nodded. For a moment, he studied her face- she was smiling, but something sad lurked under those crimson eyes.

"Last year, the restaurant was lovely, but this really reminds me of what my folks used to do around the holidays. It's really very sweet of you." Seras squeezed his hand, and Pip smiled.

"Yeah, I wanted to stick close to home this year, have a something a little more traditional. You better get used to this, little lady- we have a lot more of these to go..."

"I hope so." She sipped her blood and smiled.

Elsewhere-

Enrico sipped his wine and scowled. The damn woman was late-again! He had been waiting her arrival for nearly and hour, perched by the doorway like some love-sick puppy. The mask proved to be pinching and the too -tight boots were cutting off circulation at his knees. Worst of all, he was hoping to be left in peace for the duration of the evening, but it appeared that every, single guest had sought his company thus far-couldn't he get just a few moment's quiet? He sighed-playing host to the world's religions was so damn tiring...No matter, more pressing issues were at hand. After tonight, he had mentally drawn out an entire structure of what to do with his new wife's fortune, military regime and, of course, how to eliminate those troublesome pets. All funding from Her Majesty would be re-directed into his own personal account in Switzerland, while other aspects would be converted to gold bullion -never a bad idea with the economy forever rising and plummeting. Any soldiers that proved to be liabilities would be punished severely, and those who converted to Catholism would be rewarded- nothing like a little moral booster to keep their assets in line. And, as for the demons -from- the- pit, one would be sealed way via exorcism, while the other would be kept for ,' domestic purposes' , preferably in a nice, short maid's uniform with garters.....

As the Arch Bishop mentally continued his plans for the House of Hellsing, he reached for an additional glass of burgundy, when he stopped dead. Cinderella had arrived at the ball- Integra was lovely, more glorious than he had ever seen her before. She wore no mask, she didn't need any added glamour; a soft radiance glowed over her cheeks. Her virginal beauty was made almost doll-like by the pale lace. However, a little added detail had been applied to the gown- a rich, inky pair of leather gloves covered her hands and wrists, while a midnight corset pinched her waist and bosom. The combination of innocence and dominance made the man swallow hard and spurred on the racing thoughts cavorting in his head. Gracefully, with an a bearing befitting a queen, she approached him.

"Good evening.", she greeted calmly. Maxwell put his glass down and bowed slightly. He then reached for her hand and kissed it.

"You look stunning- bellisima." he replied. For a moment, he studied her waist in the bindings- he certainly did not remember giving her _that_ in her trousseau. Hmm, perhaps the vixen had a wild streak in her after all.

"You have been quite the little hellcat tonight, making me wait- where have you been all day?"

"Making arraignments for my household, after all, I want this change to go as gradually as possible." He offered her a glass of vino, but she declined.

"Would you care to dance?," Integra pulled in closer to whisper in his ear.

"What will your public say?"

"Then let us go someplace more quiet, eh?" Sir Hellsing nodded and took hold of his hand. The pair exited towards the balcony, and she witnessed the glances from disguised guests, nodding and making their holiday cheer known.

"Didn't you have a mask?," Enrico inquired.

"Can't you tell, I'm wearing one all ready..."

*Attempted Murder-Thanks for the idea Miss Imortalis....just remember, sex and death can be just a hair's breath from each other.... messy, sexy and perhaps a little too accurate......

*French slang for Grandmother, or an older Auntie.


	44. Chapter 44

Walk the Line

"_When figures from the past stand tall_

_And mocking voices ring the halls_

_Imperialistic house of prayer_

_Conquistadors who took their share_

_They keep calling me....." Joy Division_

Anticipation may be the most wonderful, horrible, terrible and ecstatic state that a human being can enter into. Blood rushes through the veins, the mind pushes into full throttle and the body is ready for fight or flight.... At this point , Sir Hellsing was ready for an all out war, while Maxwell was happily spinning towards matrimony at a dizzy, giddy pace. A secluded corner near the balcony was the perfect place to grasp at privacy. The Bishop pulled his intended into the cover of shadows, and planted a kiss on her cheek. While the gesture was endearing, it turned more possessive as he wrapped his arms firmly around Integra's waist, hands wandering over her torso, digging and burrowing against the leather.

"Enrico..." she chided. Maxwell paid no mind, but continued to progress upwards, one hand passing slightly over her bosom, the grip tightening like a python.

"Don't be so coy, you're _mine_." he whispered, tugging at the high collar of the dress. "We are so close, you and I -nothing wrong with showing a little affection, hmm?" He reeked of wine, and his leech-like lips glided across her flesh. The woman pushed , edging a little space between them.

"Please, not there, I'm scarred." He merely smiled.

"I saw your back the other night,-it didn't bother me in the least. Merely reminders of your strength, my dear...." He nipped at her throat, hot breath spilling over, causing the Hellsing heir to shudder.

"Dance with me..." he requested. "Cara mia, dance with your _husband_." The word felt sick, un-natural coming from his voice, but the woman merely took his hand, eager to have him distant -at least she could calculate his next move from the front. Accidentally, Enrico took her by the wrist instead of her hand and pain shot straight up through her arm; the feeding had been deep, passionate, leaving sore, raised marks. Under the protection of the kidskin, the wounds were bandaged, but still raw. Ignoring the jolt, Integra began to waltz clumsily with her partner, each step feeling stiff, as if she was a puppet being jerked on a string.

"The art, starts slowly, with a touch, a caress, then it progresses, sweeping the partners into a much more involved motion." Maxwell informed.

Even with his mask concealing his brow, conceit pierced through. Sir Hellsing's 'mask' of calm never left her face. The music grew louder, and the Arch Bishop's pace grew faster. His hair whirled, and her own threatened to come undone from its hasty bun.

"It grows rhythmic, the body yearns to be connected to the music, to rise to the height of the passion...." Nose to nose they danced, his arms pulling her all too close. Lips brushed against her own, leaving her no room to turn. Integra's fingers curved into his neck, hoping to dissuade his intimacy, but it only roused him.

"The dance grows hot, do you, bella?" he purred. Sir Hellsing buried her face in the crook of his neck, teeth clenched .

"_Boiling", _she hissed.....The waltz ended, and the position melted into an embrace. Gently, she pulled away, squelching the violent urges that just lurked beneath the veneer.

"I want to go inside, please." she requested. He nodded and they re-entered the ball. She made small talk and excused herself. A tingling sensation crept over her shoulder. Sir Hellsing turned and made a bee-line for the punch bowl , to a ghostly, shrouded figure clad in white. He wore a rich, snow-coloured cape , trimmed in thick fur The specter gazed up, eyes veiled by a curved mask resembling a wolf's face and muzzle.

"I recognized you from across the room." she spoke. A brilliant smile flashed and the man bowed.

"_And I could sense you all the way outside, my master." Her servant replied. _The stranger removed the hood and disguise revealing a young man with sculpted features and chin length, ginger-brown hair. Even his eyes took on a humane shade of brown to mute out the vivid crimson. Integra seemed amused.

"My, my, I do believe you look like a relative of mine."

"Not at all, I look like a Turk*," Alucard countered. " Care for wine?" She shook a 'no'. "How about tears, sweat, blood?" Something glittered in his hand; the glass talisman glistened in his grip, but the hue was now a brilliant purple colour, tinged blue around the edges. The pair made their way to the hallway, distancing themselves from the revelry. Was the charm now able to work against its master?

"Angelique kept her word, now, we will keep ours, won't we?" Integra reached for the circlet , but her vampire offered his empty hand instead.

"_Dance with me, dance with your husband." he requested. She scanned the room searching to see if the Arch Bishop was near by. While half of her ached to blow this ridiculous farce, they still had to be secret for the sake of the mission. _She flowed into his arms,pressing firmly to his chest. The fur brushed against her cheeks, and Integra felt warm, safe and sane against him. The pair moved to each other with an even and tender tempo. She reached up to the pale hair, stroking the soft, shortened mass.

"I could still sense you, even if you are playing at being a wolf in sheep's clothing." Alucard spun her dramatically.

"You mean a _vampire_ in wolf's clothing. I smelt you coming in-your essence's richer now, bolder...." His lips drew dangerously close to her ear.

"_I couldn't get the scent of you off me -your hair, your sweat and the slightest hint of -" _Sir Hellsing pressed a finger to his lips.

"Hush. Be civil- we are in public. The hour's near- I'll be going down to the Sanctuary in twenty minutes -have you located Anderson?" Alucard gestured to a figure standing near the doorway, swathed in black cloaks, face hidden by a thick, grotesque mask with sharp horns protruding out.

"A devil?", Sir Hellsing mused. " Did you have a hand in that?" Her vampire chuckled darkly.

"Not a devil, but a cuckold - much more ironic, don't you think?" Integra rolled her eyes

"On that note, go and do you what you must-but remember, do not harm any civilians, understood?" The creature passed her the charm and bowed.

"As you wish. " The woman studied the talisman in her hand; the glass seemed to pulse and throb with an energy all its own , the colour shifting from pale lilac to ultra violet graduating a dark, almost cerulean blue. A thick sample of ash-blonde hair was interwoven into the rosary and it had a slight scent of orange water and salt to it. Maxwell's salve and sweat had been slathered on to reverse the curses.

"How will this work?" Alucard leaned in and quickly explained.

"By all costs, lead him down into the catacombs and the gris-gris will go to work - ask for justice and it will rise to meet you." He kissed her hand, and placed a secondary peck on her wrist. Integra watched with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as the two disappeared around the bend. Whatever they were planning was strictly in their power now. She closed one hand around the glass beads, while the other ran a finger down the barrel of her pistol, concealed at her side under the mounds of lace. The dress did serve a purpose after all- one could practically smuggle a whole arsenal of weapons under the bustle....

Elsewhere- Salerno Train Station-

"Here you go, Miss.", the man behind the counter said with a smile as he handed a ticket for Sienna to the young woman. While everyone else around her was hustling and bustling, racing from entrance to exit, eager to be off and see family on this Holiday night, she seemed untouched, almost too calm, as if she was slowly coming out of a trance. Right now, she stared off into space, ignoring the piece in front of her.

"Um Miss," he repeated louder,"your ticket- take it." She snapped aware and retrieved her change and ticket.

"Oh, thank you." she replied with a slight nod. Mariana grabbed up her bag and tightened up the wool wrapper around her neck- Sir Integra had been kind enough to offer both her winter coat and scarf, but the later was the only thing that fit. She made her way to the bench and waited patiently for her train to arrive. Minutes were slowing down and scraping against the clock's face, but she didn't mind. She was safe, and removing herself from this insanity .The few moments of calm brought back thoughts of her family-she was going home.

A pang of guilt touched her heart at the thought of her actions this evening. Was it really revenge that had driven her to aid the woman and her family? No, no, it wasn't. Mariana did not believe in retaliation, she did not have the fire of spitefulness burning in her veins. She had wanted to help the Hellsings and end the sick game that had been spinning out of control. Revenge, no, she did not seek revenge, but she did want balance. Perhaps, as drastic as this turn-about was, it would bring balance to Maxwell's life and end his indulgences once and for all.

The girl sighed and shuddered from a gust of wind. Under all that corruption, there was a once pure heart and battered soul; Enrico needed love and deserved it like any other human being, but in order for him to receive , he would have to learn to give such care and compassion himself. The trains began to pull up, emptying hundreds of passengers joyous with the season, carrying packages and gifts. A bright silver box bedecked with red ribbons caught her eye.

"_I hope the children are enjoying their presents right now..." she wished, hugging her arms to her sides, building a fortress against the cold. _

Meanwhile-

Richard "Rikki" Stevenson reviewed his paperwork as the plane hummed through the air. Strep throat had kept him from being next to Mr. Rouge's side, a simple schoolyard illness had prevented him from protecting his charge. He felt worse than worthless- a bloody excuse for a man. However, a bright light shone through this tragedy-with the untimely death of this child, Rikki would be able to undermined whatever operation was being covered up in the Villa. He had received no contact from either Mr. Or Mrs. LeChat, wondering if they could have been connected to this atrocity. He released a strained sigh; it was impossible, they were dedicated to these children, but then why hadn't there been a bigger rise out of the orphanage. Was there bribery ,or we're they silenced by the Vatican? The mystery would be solved in less than a half hour.

While he was not used to having conversations with a corpse, Captain Ari was quite enjoying himself, trading war stories with several of the 'troops'. The drinks were flowing freely and in spite of the odd turn of events, this was one of his calmer holidays. The good captain himself did not celebrate Christmas-he was Hindu, but to honor a gentle man who humbled himself to the world in order to teach ideals of peace and kindness with a nice , stiff drink, was not the worst celebration one could devise. The midnight hour crept close at hand and some of the guests, alive and un-dead alike, took on a sentimental, peaceful tone. The faint ring of church bells could be heard across the estate, sobering the jive and jazz . Thoughts turned to family and memories of days long gone. For a brief moment. The warm, worn vision of his deceased father crept into Ari's mind. As if on cue, the butler had changed the CD player from its lively sounds to a soothing rendition of "Silent Night". He shot a little nod to Walter.

"Bing Crosby?" he asked

"Of course-brings back memories..." The gentleman polished off his scotch, and gave Walter a thumbs up.

"So, you really want to have me come to midnight mass?" Seras asked quietly. Pip donned his coat and began to tie a bulky, knitted hat over his hair.

"It's the only mass you can come to , and it's the only Mass I really go to besides Easter, so yeah, I want you to come." The little vampire donned her jacket and hugged him tightly.

"So you don't believe I'm a she devil..."

"Only in the bedroom, love." He gave her a naughty wink, and they made their way up. On the way out, the two could not help but to let a warm and contented feeling come over them listening to a few guests sing along with the CD, voices cracking, some flat, others perfect, but all brimming with joy. Ari slurred his words , but did his best to sing in a husky tone. He was a bit embarrassed- some of the deceased could really carry a tune.

Meanwhile, Outside the Great Hall....

Carrying the passed-out nun was simple ; sling girl gently over shoulder, if the old rugby shoulder gets sore, reverse to traditional bridal carrying. If that gets too uncomfortable, reverse again. Either way he did it, the little, unconscious thing was getting quite heavy as time went on. Upon hearing of his arrival, the family and staff were overjoyed . Lady Emma and Meena ran to greet him followed by Edward and Walter.

"Darling, you're home!", his wife cried, but before she could embrace him, she was a bit confused by the woman in his arms.

"What happened to her-oh, what happened to your face?" she asked

"Long story. Walter, Eddie, can you please take the young lady upstairs to a guest room. She's in no shape for walking." Carefully, Walter took Yumiko from his arms, as if she was a large child while Edward spotted him. Lady Emma hugged her son tightly, Meena embracing him as well. It was a warm, squishy sandwich, but Andrew never felt better. Suddenly, Lord Hellsing felt a small tug at his leg. When he gazed down, he wasn't sure if he should shoot or pet the creature at his feet; a skeletal dog couched playfully and yipped, wagging its bony tail.

"What in bloody Hell is going on here?"

"Um, long story.," his wife began,"Let me get you a cup of tea and we'll explain..."

"I look like a Turk"- A little ironic, but the Romanians described the Strigoli, or early vampires as having ginger or reddish hair, being very pale, and having blue eyes. These monsters were fashioned after their real life 'monsters' of the invading Turks.

Cuckold- To give 'horns' was an expression, popularized in the Middle Ages, to show that a man had been cheated on by his wife. A cuckold's mask was often worn as a social punishment/reminder by husbands with unfaithful wives to prevent women from 'disgracing' them. Sometimes the mask resembled jack -ass complete with ears in addition to the horns. Anderson is a priest, committed to chastity, so the iron y is there...or does he feel cheated by the scandal of the Church, hmm, makes one think....


	45. Chapter 45

At A Later Date

Upon the stillness of the night, something stirred. Something ancient, something powerful. Energy crackled and sparked like renegade fire crackers in the catacombs, making the spirits of the tomb edgy. The Baron was restless in his borrowed coffin, and the skulls surrounding him shuddered. Their visitor was ready to wake, and he might be testy.....

The Alter of the Blessed Rose-

Candles blazed with a soft warmth illuminating the space. The images of the Holy Mother was bathed in a gentle glow, pink shadows playing across her face. Heavy, heady scents of roses and incense tickled the back of Integra's throat as she stood by Enrico's Alter had been laid with a rich, white cloth, a chalice of Sacramental wine, and three dozen red roses. She scowled and took a short breath.

"Just a few moments, be patient." Enrico stated, anticipating Father Anderson's arrival. His 'bride' said nothing as her hand traveled to the side of her skirts, the iron and lace at her fingertips.

The Courtyard- Maximilian Villa

Like two chess pieces on a grand board, a figure in white and a figure in black faced off . The ink-coloured priest cast off his mask, eyes sparkling with a merry, maddening glee. Moonlight lengthened their shadows, pulling them to eerie lengths.

"Nice little game ya played back there-ya almost look human..."he teased."Want ta dance now?" The white wolf grinned, mouth elongating, the snowy robes shifting and bleeding, returning into Alucard's signature crimson clothes. His light hair darkened and spilled out over his shoulders like an ink spill. The Cheshire King bowed, then rushed forwards, left arm up, cocked and swung. Fist impacted with the jaw, a sickening crunching sound snapping the still air. Spitting out a thick wad of blood, Anderson smiled and turned to his aggressor. A swift knee shot up and hit the vampire in the gut , allowing the man to come close enough to crack the creature's chin with the top of his skull. Hands groped for the priest's robes as Alucard fell downwards, pulling the man on top of him.

"Good Grief man, gettin'a bit too friendly- what in tha' world would ya wife say?" he questioned.

"Shut up!," the vampire bellowed His face was mere inches from his own and he contemplated biting the tip of his nose off. The stink of Holy Water filled his nostrils and it burned like dry ice.

"What-got nothin' ta chat about-what about tha' holiday? Don't ya have that Christmas spirit in ya, beast?"

"No, I don't..." Alucard growled, reversing their positions. While he had agreed to cause chaos, he did not agree to put up with the priest's insults. Little did either man know that they were being watched.

While she should have been asleep hours ago, Marguerite could not settle herself in for the night. While there had been sleepless nights on and off since Paul's disappearance, this was a good kind of fidgety. The concert had gone well, and the party had riled her up with the music and the sweets- well, she hadn't had_ that _many, just a few eclairs and a handful of bon-bons...or two. She was still clad in her party dress, and had continued to dance by herself long after the other girls had crawled into their beds. Maggie twirled and wiggled in front of the mirror, glancing up at her reflection in the wardrobe, skirts spinning and circling out. One of her class mates rose up groggily .

"Maggie," she whined,"Go to bed. It's late."

"I can't-it's Christmas! Santa will be here!" She two-stepped a little jig and clapped her hands.

"Maggie, some of us wanna sleep-go to bed!" another girl commanded. She paid no mind to the request but sauntered over to the window. All of a sudden something caught her eye-a flash of red, something bright red, and quick. She peered deeper int the courtyard and gasped.

"Santa?" she questioned. "Oh my gosh- it's him, it's him!" The little girl squealed "Santa Clause is outside!" A few of the girls groaned, some of the older ones muttering beneath their covers, while others just continued to beg for quiet. A pair of small, twin girls got up and went to the window to see for themselves.

"Um, isn't Santa suppose to be older?," one asked "He looks kinda young."

"Why does he look like he's fighting that man outside? Wait, it's Father Andrew!" the other girl proclaimed.

"Maybe they're having a snowball fight?", Maggie offered, grabbing her coat. "Anyway, I'm going down stairs- who's coming?"

Elsewhere-

Tick, tick, tick-the clock sounded out the midnight hour, chimes bursting though the Sanctuary. Anxious grew to irritated and now Enrico was bordering on irked.

"It's midnight-where is he?", he muttered, beginning to pace. Integra had seated herself down in one of the pews,edging closer and closer to the alter, watching his every move.

"Feh-what does it matter, all we really need to do is sign the contract and be done with this." He began to dip inside his jacket, removing a few papers.

"_But I thought that Anderson had the only copy!", she thought._ Her next actions were quick. No sooner than they were placed on the alter, Sir Hellsing rushed towards the documents and snatched them, barreling past a rather confused groom.

"What the Devil are you doing?!" Maxwell shouted. Grabbing up as much of the cumbersome train as she could, the woman ran_,_ pushing deeper and deeper into in to the church. A narrow, stone stairway steered her to the left and downwards. The catacombs were located just a few flights below. Faster she pushed, hearing the slight echoes of heels behind her. A section of lace tangled up her foot and she tripped, falling face first onto the cold, hard surface of the landing. Her chin was scraped, but her knees took most of the impact-thick stone grating against fabric and flesh. The skirt ripped and it was a miracle that her gun did not accidentally go off.

"That's it!", Integra fumed. She tore the gap in the heavy material, freeing her legs, and ripped off the train with a violent jerk. Ignoring the blood that was starting to flow from her wounded knees, she picked herself up and continued into the dark, dry halls of the Maximilian Catacombs.

It was so odd that the first thought that popped into the woman's mind was just how much theses halls reminded her of her flight down in the dungeons of her own estate. First the office, now the basement-what other similarities lay in wait for her? If they were harboring vampires as well-now that would be interesting. Ignoring the chatter in her head, Integra sped up the pace; she could hear the Arch Bishop's voice .

"Where are you? Stop-let me find you!"

"Not bloody likely," she hissed and took a turn to the right. The corridors were long and poorly lit. There was a little rude lighting installed sparsely, but it trailed off completely as she journeyed farther. Integra squinted, but the darkness was thick and all consuming. The air took on a dry and acrid feel to it-tomb-like. Her contacts felt like sandpaper against her eyes, and she desperately wished that she had worn her glasses after all.

"Dammit, I can't see anything..." she cursed. But then, she felt a slight tingling at her side. The talisman that had been pinned to the inside of her corset began to glow, a bright incandescent violet. It radiated like a halogen lamp and Sir Hellsing held it up high to guide her path. The place was littered with skulls piled two and three deep on to each other. She shuddered and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Integra, where are you?", Maxwell's voice echoed. She maneuvered through the walls of bones as deftly as she could. A too-quick turn knocked some of the skulls downwards. She cursed her clumsiness and gripped the charm tightly.

"Help, please, I need some help...," she whispered into the gloom. A rustling stirred the bones, and the place grew warm. A pale light began to fill the place revealing the piles of remains to be vibrating and twitching. A yellowing skull rolled off of the top of a wall to Integra's left and landed at her feet.

"And how may I be of service to you, My Lady?" it asked with a toothy grin.

Meanwhile-

The clatter of bones indicated that he should take a left rather than a right. Maxwell changed his course and followed the reverberations down the hall. This little game of hard-to-get was becoming tiresome. When he caught his runaway bride, he would have to chastise her firmly, yet lovingly, of course. Did she really think that she could out run him ? This was his manor, and while he had not visited it in a while, his memories of playing here as a youth brought his inner compass into focus. Like a predator, he perked his ears and listened for her footsteps. Another noise indicated that she was heading back up to the Sanctuary. Maxwell followed it. His feet began to ache from the riding boots , mouth dry from the stale air, and his hair was becoming undone, much like his patience. He was gaining on her, moving in closer for the kill.

Alucard pounced on the priest, gunning for his throat, for the kill, or as close to a devastating injury he could inflict on the immortal. They had bitten chunks out of each other, lopped off limbs, torn clothes and flesh to great, gory pieces. It was becoming tiring.

"Ya doin' a great job.," his opponent complimented, merely re-knitting his wounds up, as if by magick. "Now, if ya can leave me in pieces, that would surely help in -."

"I'm going to rip your vocal chords out!.", the vampire snarled. As he raised his clawed hands in an attempt to sever the muscles of Anderson's throat, he paused, feeling a presence of someone behind him. The creature turned, eyes blazing scarlet death, hair animated and flowing about his head like Medusa , face contorted into a vicious snarl staring right into the faces of.... a trio of little children. A small group of three young girls stood before them, cautiously approaching. One was clearly terrified , hiding behind her twin, who was only slightly braver. The oldest of the group drew near, a plate in her hands. Slowly, Alucard started to calm himself and settled the priest down.

"S-Santa?", the tiny voice chirped. The girl took a few halted steps. The creature crouched down to look the child in the face; he could smell the powder and fear radiating off her skin, and the scent of ...chocolate?

"Don't ya dare touch them.," the priest warned. Alucard stood still, letting Maggie creep closer.

"We saw you from the window, and we wanted to give you these." she stated, lifting the offering closer to his face. They were cookies, ripe with chunks of chocolate, very fresh, still warm, and possibly homemade. A charming grin spread over the creature's face.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I cannot accept them, for you see, I'm not Santa..."

"Are you one of his helpers?", the brave twin piped up.

"He's here with the lady that helped ya the other week, Maggie.," the priest added. "He's her helper, now if ya want ta give him the cookies, let's be done with it." Gingerly, the Scourge of Europe, the Great Un-dead King sampled the treat and smiled, patting the girl on her head. Maggie's face lit up, and the others saw that it was safe to come over. One of the twins paused and looked up at her priest.

"Father Andy, you're bleeding!," she exclaimed. The man felt the trickle of blood roll down from his nose, and quickly wiped it away.

"It's nothin' girlie, just got hit with...a snowball, we like ta play rough." he lied cheerfully.

"See, told ya so!," Maggie sang, now feeling bold enough to tuck her arms around the neck of the strange man and hug him.

"Oh! You're cold!," she stated. The vampire rose, hugging the girl to his chest, the others flanking him on each side.

"We've been out here too long, let's go in." he explained. The group began to make their way back into the villa, Anderson keeping a close and watchful eye on Alucard.

"Please, a little faith in me, Judas." he countered."I had children once, and besides, they wouldn't be a very good snack -not enough meat." Maggie giggled at the joke, but Anderson narrowed his eyes. The party was still in full swing, so a more subtle side-entrance was used. The little girl was handed off to Father Anderson.

"Get down ta the Catacombs, we've done our job, now ya do yours." he stately flatly, guiding the girls back upstairs. Once they were gone, he slipped as silent as death through the cracks in the floor.

Click, click, click. The heels of woman's shoes stopped flat . Maxwell grinned and turned the last corner before the dead end near the Alter. So, the little wench wasn't as clever as she thought she was; she'd hit the wall where it appeared to be another landing-the place was filled with false corridors and pits. Triumphantly, he braced himself in the doorway.

"So, you thought that you could just run off and-", his words halted in his mouth. Instead of the Hellsing Heir, a skeleton wearing Integra's heeled slippers stood against the wall.

"H-Hello, darling?!" it greeted. The Arch Bishop grew livid.

"That bitch, that little bitch tricked me!," he roared. He advanced on the skeleton, grasping its throat and knocking its skull to the wall.

"Where is she.", he snarled.

"I have no idea what you are so upset about?" it countered. Violently, Enrico began to pound the ghost's head into the bricks, fragments of dry bone splintering off in chunks.

"Tell me where she is, as lord of this manor, I command you spirit, answer!" he screamed.

"Up-Up stairs-room." was all it could mange before the entire jaw shattered into a thousand pieces and it fell like dead weight. A vicious kick sent its cranium flying and the Arch Bishop turned and advanced up the stairs.

"Bastard.," the skull muttered, the energy draining out of it, converging back into the shadows. "She's going to have your head, by the time she's done....."


	46. Chapter 46

All of This For You

As the last remaining pieces of contract were being flushed down the toilet, they were spit on, just for good measure. The shreds of Maxwell's scheme floated away, but Integra still braced herself for what was to come. Hopefully, her helper had honed enough time to distract him, though this was not the end. Rita was nestled snugly against her hip, warmed from her body. The idea of actually killing the man was out of the question, but if she had to, blowing out his knee cap would be enough to cripple him as she got away. She began to move quickly, but not soon enough. As Sir Hellsing made her way to the door, a clattering came down the halls. She braced herself for the visitor. The noise ran past her room and dulled. She breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously opened the door-nothing awaited her outside. Silently, she stole out of the guestroom. The party still played on, music growing fainter, but present. The halls were empty-good, she didn't need any well-meaning attendants seeing her in her current state of disarray and holding her up from escape with their well-meaning. Sir Hellsing clung to the sides of the walls, edging down . Just as she began to reach the stairwell, feeling the first tingling essences of Alucard, she felt a pull on her shoulder that sent her reeling backwards.

The back of her head collided with a wall. Enrico loomed over her, a vicious snarl on his lips, eyes set like stone, hair tangled around his shoulders in a wild mess, making him look like a gorgon. His hands buried into the mass of her hair and dragged her inside the threshold of an empty room He slammed the door shut, turning on her like a madman.

"You deceitful, little bitch.," he growled. Integra met his eyes, unafraid. She began to rise when he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing his face into hers.

"So this was all a game to you, wasn't it?"

"And the lives of those children, this elaborate mess-that wasn't to you? You shouldn't be one to lecture."

" I have no concern for those wretched brats-they've done more good this way than they ever would out in the streets. We all must do what we have to in order to maintain the powers that be, isn't that right, Sir Hellsing?"

"No, not like this. You're a murder, a sick, murdering bastard and the entire roof will come down on you- I will see to that." He lunged at Integra, the savage beast spurned on by the ugly truth. Sir Hellsing shoved him away, but the Bishop snagged her by the wrists, putting firm pressure on her wounds. A tiny cry of pain escaped from her, sparking a curious look from her aggressor. Maxwell grasped her left wrist and peeled off the glove, revealing the bandages underneath. Callously, he pried away the wrappings , a look or disgust rising when he spied the raw cherries of the impressions.

"You, you let him _feed _off you?," he questioned. Integra said nothing, eyes narrowing, flashing fire.

"What else to you let him do? ," he breathed, a whisper ripe with hate and heat."Do you let him suck- does he use his tongue? What else are you keeping from me, tell me." he hissed, squeezing her wrist so hard that the bones threatened to crack. She waited until he was so close that she could kiss him, but instead brought her forehead down with vicious force on the bridge of his aquiline nose. Maxwell reeled back with pain, cradling his bruised face.

He cursed at her, obscenities muffled, but he still continued to reach out . She was trapped between Maxwell and the door. A whisper caught her attention.

"_Back here.," it suggested. _Though it defied logic, she sped towards the rear of the room, while Enrico attempted to halt the deluge of blood pouring down his chin. The place was far deeper that it first appeared; it began to narrow, the walls growing closer and closer together. A small door that looked like a closet was on the left.

"_Go through here, in here.," the little voice directed. _She pulled on the knob and the portal creaked open, revealing a secret pathway.

"Catacombs.," Integra breathed, and descended into darkness.

Elsewhere_-_

The vampire could not clearly feel what his master was going through, so much extraneous energy was spilling into his mind right now swirling with colour and noise, making it almost impossible to decipher exactly where Integra was and if she needed help. Voices of the living and dead filled Alucard's mind; laughter, screaming, moaning, and endless chatter.

"_Master....," he called out over and over until finally a tiny reply peeled forth. _

"_Running , downstairs, what do you want?"_

"_What do you need?," _

"_Get transportation ready, get any and all remaining paperwork out of Maxwell's office and get as many heads of state and Church into the kitchen if you can."_

"_Kitchen?" _

"_I'll explain later....do as I say. " _

While the creature was a bit confused, he trusted the judgment of his master completely. However, if he did have some help in the matter, it would go more smoothly. Quickly, he transformed back into his previous form, and made his way back out into the hall, following the scent of the Priest.

"Father Anderson," he stated,"I need a you to return a favour."He explained his needs and the Iscariot priest nodded and exited. That part was easy, but now, how to get the rest of the guests down to the lower level of the kitchen? Alucard scanned the room until he saw a friend. Silently, he crept up to the silhouette of the lovely woman he had met the other day. Liz Sherman sat quietly sipping her punch dressed in the garb of an ice fairy, complete with transparent, blue wings, and a whisper of a white slip dress.

"You look lovely, absolutely lovely." the creature complimented.

"Thanks-but flattery will get you nowhere, Spooky." she replied.

"Then I will ask plainly- I need your help- can you get these people down to the kitchen on the third level? Integra needs us to have them there immediately." Her eyebrows rose in question.

"Is there something bad happening? Do you need Red, he just went upstairs, but I can-" The vampire silenced her with a finger.

"Kitchen. Now. Please." Liz understood. She nodded and rose with a half-scheme in her head.....

Meanwhile-

Mr. Stevenson was not amused. It was almost quarter to one in the morning, he was freezing, and this security guard was getting on his very last nerve. He stood outside the great, russet portal of the villa ignoring a few drunken guests sauntering past.

"I'm sorry sir, but if we had some prior knowledge that you were to be arriving so late, this would be going along much more smoothly..." the man began, a young fellow barely out of his teens. He gave the visitor a luke-warm smile. Though usually a very patient man, Rikki felt his politeness wearing thin. He flashed his paper work once again, and gritted his teeth. Eyes scanned over the documents and the guard's face grew pale.

"Sir, I am not a party-goer or a do-gooder, I'm here concerning a little matter that happened just a week ago concerning a child on the residence here. " They young agent's eyes grew wide as he passed over the badge and more authentic looking summons.

"Oh, oh man." he replied, calling up addition aid on his transmitter. Side-stepping the guard, Rikki and two other men entered the grand hallway. Music was still lingering in the air and attendees were filtering in and out of the corridors. Mr. Stevenson paused one, a woman in a draped Roman toga and glittery, gold mask.

"Excuse me, but we're looking for the Arch Bishop, or someone who knows where he is?" The goddess giggled and shrugged her shoulders. Rikki sighed.

"Mr. Stevenson, " one of his assistants piped up,"Half of these guys look three -sheets- to- the -wind, why don't we go inside the party and start looking?" He nodded.

" If we can't find Maxwell, search for the head of the villa.," Rikki stated, "Or Even better, Maxwell's lackeys. We need him -pronto." The trio dispersed into the masquerade. The men began asking anyone who seemed to be sober enough to answer if they had seen the Bishop. Alucard overheard Stevenson's request and drew closer. Just a few moments prior, he had riled up his request for the guests to start making their way to the kitchen. Most seemed confused, but the vampire had little help with the prompting.

"Come on-anyone who wants to do the traditional chestnut roast-the _maroons _are waiting down in the pantry!," Miss Sherman exclaimed, making a small flame dance between her fingers, until it sparked up and out like a willow wisp. On-lookers clapped and began to follow the shapely red-head downstairs, eager for the treats and further party-tricks.

Meanwhile-

The little circlet provided enough light for Sir Hellsing to see where she was progressing to, but her footing was still shaky.

"_Why am I heading down here?," she thought aloud_

"_The Baron wants to meet the Bishop- he will protect you and put an end to him" the little voice replied. _

"_Why are you helping me?" _

"_Because, we can't have him hurt any more people, now can we-oh, watch your step!" _Just in the nick or time, Integra, was able to step over a broken cinder block . Much to her horror, she saw the remains of a jagged femur sticking out of the cement.

"_People were buried in the foundations, weren't they?" she questioned. _

"_Many, many-a few even are upstairs under the bedrooms._" Integra shuddered at the thought. A sharp curve to the left brought her full circle-this was the same area that Seras and Alucard's coffins had been placed weeks prior. Over in the corner, her husband's great, obsidian casket lay, untouched by any of the dust of the ancient room. Several other coffins, some half-destroyed, others intact, lay scattered about.

"Which one is the Baron's?", she asked. A sense of heat began to fill her senses and a strong scent of run infiltrate her nostrils. The nearer she crept to the last, closed tomb nearest the doorway, the hotter she felt and the more potent the smell.

Cautiously, she placed her hands and the talisman on the lid of the coffin; it was dried wood, nearly black with mold and age, and its surface was rough, callously treated though out the centuries.

"Please, I need your help." she whispered. Silence hushed the dust of the ground and the heavy air. Nothing happened, nothing at all-there was no great rumbling nor bright bolt of colour-all was still. Still enough for Sir Hellsing to hear the ragged breath and quicken footsteps of Maxwell. She cast the charm aside and reached for her Colt.

The man entered the room, bringing with flinch all the fury of Hell. He lunged and snarled at her like a rabid dog, all of his gentlemanly airs gone. She sidestepped his first maneuver, but the man kicked out her leg, forcing the woman to lose balance, landing sideways on the hard, stone floor.

"You forget that your place is down there,_ puta_." He sneered."You thought that you would trick me- I'm the Lord of this Villa, I know anywhere and everywhere you would run." He crouched down on top of his claim, a wild, triumphant look in his eyes as he pulled his weight fully down over her; Integra stayed calm, deathly calm. She did not even flinch as spittle and blood hit her face.

"Ha, did you think that this would not go over as planned? Even now, copies of the wedding contract are being sent over to England as we speak. The next few weeks will have your funding transferred over to Italy and everything will belong to me. As for any other paper work- that is all being taken care of...."

"Oh, really?," the Hellsing Heir inquired. Something was not quite right- she was too calm, too at ease with the situation. However, the appearance of her in a tattered gown, revealing by far more leg that he had been hoping for , began to drive those thoughts away. She was helpless, defeated and soon to be defiled-what more could Maxwell desire?

"Your meddling, your family's meddling will come to nothing- no one will be aware of what happened in Haiti-all evidence is now gone, even the lab in Switzerland is cleared up, wiped off the face of the map....." Integra sighed- his dramatics reminded her of a comic-book villain- a rather loud, pretentious one, and for that she was grateful. After all, they were practically right under the grate system.

Upstairs-

While the chestnuts had proved to be wonderfully festive, there was another aspect drawing attention into the room. Apparently, there was what sounded like a lover's spat happening a few floors below. Though thick floors separated the various levels, the heating system still allowed sound to travel upwards, and the spaciousness of the catacombs allowed for a certain amount of echo, so what had started out as muffled noise had been raised to the level of near- clear conversation. At first, only a handful of busy bodies had begun to listen in, but as the dialogue began to become more heated, more people began to listen. Alucard passed a knowing glance to Liz, crunched a piping hot _maroon _between his teeth, and slipped out into the hallway, phasing though the floor.

Downstairs-

"I care nothing for these little bastards, or the pagan filth that's upstairs., they've caused enough aggravation being here. Fools, do they really think I care for their 'spirituality' and 'love'? I spit in their punch-that's what I think of their company! After we, Iscariot, are able to mass produce this compound, we will be able to spread the Fear and Love of God once again like the Crusaders though this fore-saken world and bring order once more!" Maxwell continued to rant. "All will cower under the rein of the Maximilians and mercy shall be shown to none that stand against us!"

"Are you quite done?," Integra flatly stated,"You're a poor actor, and at best an ass- get off me." Enrico smirked.

"You're in no position to be making demands, however, you are in a perfect position for more important things..." His hands began to slip over her knees, when the Bishop felt something warm and hard press against his side, and it wasn't one of her thighs...

"Let's see, one in the side would cause a slow bleed-out, most likely help would arrive long before you could hemorrhage to death, but then a gain....." The muzzle of a Colt jabbed upward into Maxwell's taught ribs. "Or, I could aim a little lower and get rid of what causes so much of your trouble."

"_You wouldn't dare_.", he hissed. Integra cooly raised the pistol and fired it over his right shoulder into the dark, causing the man to jump. She used his shock to reverse their stance, and she pinned him down quite quickly, a look of surprise dumbing his features.

"Oh, what's wrong?," she pouted,"I thought you liked your women on top, or is that just a little too dominant for you? In fact, my friend here would love to get more intimate- Enrico, meet Rita, Lovely Rita." The hot barrel of the gun was still smoking and mere inches away from his jaw.

"Please, Integra, some sympathy for the devil?" Sir Hellsing cocked a brow.

"Hmm, never did care for the Rolling Stones, I'm much more of a Beatles fan myself, and you know what they say, 'Happiness is a warm gun...' She cocked the weapon, and a look of sheer panic ran electric in his eyes.

"_Let him up, let him up,"the little voice called out,"Let us take care of him..." _Sir Hellsing raised herself off the cowering man, and he scrambled up like a rat, desperate to escape his judgment. Maxwell scurried away from her, running towards the hallway when the very foundations of the building itself began to rattle and vibrate. Piles of bones, fragments of stone, and skulls began to rain down upon him _. _Skeletal hands reached out and grasped at his legs, fingers clawing into the leather and tripping him up in their clutch.

"Get off me!" he shrieked, kicking the appendages, cracking and splintering them into oblivion. Just as he began to regain his footing, a soft, strange buzzing noise echoed up through the stone; it was laughter, deep, rich laughter, filtering through the cornerstones, entering his ears and bouncing off his cranium, deafening, drowning laughter. The Arch Bishop turned, meeting face- to -face with the visage of death himself, complete with a gold-toothed grin.

Maroons- Italian Chestnuts are called _maroons_ because of their deep, dark red interior. It is customary to have a great, big chestnut roast during the holidays where huge piles of the delicacies are spilt, roasted in iron pans and distributed.


	47. Chapter 47

Sister Ray

"_In which secrets are learned, love re-united and the villain gets his come-uppance.."_

_Summary of a 1918 melodrama novel.....back cover. Hey, it's pretty close to what the summary of this chapter could be-hope that you've enjoyed reading so far-this is the last bit, then you get an epilogue...  
_

The constant buzz of voices and chatter zipped through the vampire's head like a high-octane mosquito. Alucard felt giddy, dizzy, and the boiling of blood-lust building brilliantly behind his eyes. Slowly, he sank through the concrete of the manor, descending like Dante through the levels of Maxwell's own Hell.

Hell-that was the only thing that the Bishop could see burning in those deep, blue orbs; pure, unadulterated _Hell. _The visage before him stank like a bar-room- the rich, sticky-sweet essence of rum and burnt cigars clawed at his throat, beads and bells jangling, and that grin, that manic, gold-capped split never left the ghoul's face.

"Bon Jour, are you well, Mon Ami?" He asked in a voice drenched with malice. Enrico screamed- peal after peal, ripping out of his lungs as the ragged "man" put his bony hands on his shoulders.

"Hush, now, is that any way to great an employer, eh? You and I are going to be very close, a good partnership-tre bon, old man, tre bon!" A mad, merry glee danced in those fire-fly eyes, sparking electric. Circling around the terrified man, dozens upon dozens of re-animated skeletons drew near. Some menacingly held broken fragments of stone and wood in their hands, while others had actual weapons; a random dagger, rusted with age, or a battered-looking club. The Graveyard Man paced back and forth, inspecting Enrico's form and face, while the other corpses leered. Death surrounded the Bishop, whose cries were becoming quite hoarse.

"Can you please stop that, you sound like a girl" Integra chided. Two ghostly attendants held the man down, as the Baron made his way over to the woman. He bowed deeply, making a grand sweep of his arms, tipping his hat to her.

"What is your bidding, my Lovely?" he gallantly asked. "Do you wish I take him right now, or do we make him suffer a bit, yes?" A few skeletons perked up, eager to tear into live flesh. Sir Hellsing's pause seemed to last forever. She placed a finger against her cheek and looked quizzically at him.

"Please, please Integra," he begged," Don't let him touch me! For the love of God!" Her face was cold, untouched by his pleas. Sir Hellsing merely nodded her head towards the Baron and began to walk away .

"Yes Enrico, for the love of God."*she whispered, as the mob closed in and his screams echoed of the chambers.....

Integra paused. If she turned and went upstairs now, she would be just as guilty as him. She pinched the bridge of her nose, growled at herself, and spun around on her heels-damn conscious!

"Wait!", she cried out. The rally of ghouls stepped back from the man , his shirt nearly torn off his chest, and the Baron now donning the velvet coat.

Their illustrious leader held up his hand in halting.

"Do you want to get a few shots in, m'Lady ?" he asked, pulling a small knife from his vest pocket."Maybe you want to make him a gelding?" Integra cast her eyes down at a broken man- rivers of tears streaked his face and his mouth was a mess of caked blood and spittle. His eyes had the desperate look of a bull being led to the tannery. She crossed to him, leaning over, taking his bruised chin in her hands.

"They will not kill you, nor maim you, but Maxwell, this doesn't mean that you get a way without a price."

"Name it!," he sputtered.

"_You _will answer for the medical experimentation and all records- anything with my name, my family's name or crest will be cleared of any foul play- I want this in writing and on my desk by tomorrow, understand?" He nodded frantically.

"Furthermore, I will see that a decent portion of your wealth will go to aiding those 'little bastards' as you so charmingly put, making sure that at their lives are benefited by your pocket." Maxwell grimaced and raised his voice to protest. " I believe that you are in no position to demand anything, Sir." She turned to the Baron.

" As for you, my dear gentleman, your servants won't lay a single hand on him, however, you will keep close watch for the next 48-hours and if any of these tasks are not completed to my word, well, then do as you see fit- he will make an excellent servant, though couldn't you pick a better body to inhabit?" The Baron shrugged.

"He's not bad-looking", he stated.

"Horrible personality, though." Sir Hellsing countered.

"Finely educated.,"

" Still, he's a damn fool!"

"True, true, but he's got money!"

"Not after I get through with him- remember, it's supposedly the vows of Chastity, Obedience, and Poverty- apparently, he only got one right."

"Wait- he's got dozens of lovers, a real Casanova."Integra cocked an eyebrow and waved her hand in a 'so-so' gesture.

" 'Cosi-cosi', mon Baron."

"Oh for God's Sake, you loved every minute of it!" Enrico grumbled. A flash of predatory energy crossed her face and the Hellsing heir pounced and pushed the man down, her mouth mere inches from his ear.

"You have no clue, no inkling of what I want or love, or what _any_ woman wants. Just know this- you will never, ever lay a single hand on me again. You will never again know how my skin feels pressed against yours, or what my mouth tastes like, nor will you ever get the privilege to experience just how good in bed I really am..." she trailed off, brushing a light kiss against his forehead.

"_And trust me, I'm very, very good_....." she breathed She stood up, casting a downwards glance at his twisted face, the emotions so jumbled that one couldn't tell if he would burst out screaming or break down crying.

"Oh, before I forget, here." Integra tossed a small, wrapped object that landed between his legs.

"I wouldn't want to disgrace your grandmother, so please, take your gift back, it doesn't suit my tastes, nor my _husband's _." Slowly, the woman began to exit.

"Remember, the paperwork- TOMORROW , and if you would be a dear, can you include the fountain from the East sector as a parting gift-it would look splendid in my rose garden....." As the woman made her way back up the stairs, a little tug at her side stopped her. Integra halted and turned, seeing the paled form of a six year old boy with a curious look on his face.

"_But lady, " he began, "You told Papa what to do, but what about us?" _She had seen this little face before in the crowd of orphans weeks prior.

"You were the voice that guided me, weren't you?" she asked. The 'child' nodded.

"_My name's Paul.", he stated with a little smile._

"Thank you, Paul, I couldn't have done this without your help." Integra turned and saw dozens of the re-animated dead awaiting her next command. Even the Baron, the great Graveyard Man himself stood at attention.

"All of you have been trapped here so long, you must want to go to a more peaceful place. Unless you feel attached to this villa as a spirit of protection, leave this ancient tomb, go forth and find God's peace, Amen." she began. A great rush of heat began to fill the catacombs, like the first burst of fresh, spring air after a long and bitter winter. The dry dust of centuries past away, and a soft scent of marigolds filled the place. One by one the skeletons dropped, their bones crumbling into eggshell piles The figure of the boy that had once been Paul Estelle flickered like a moth against the light, then vanished.

"_Thank you-thank you!" Dozens of voices sang, a Christmas choir of uplifted souls filling Integra's head. _Even in his state of disarray, Maxwell made the sign of the Cross and stared awestruck at the scene around him.

Elsewhere-

Hellsing Manor

As the early hours of morning began to creep in, most of the household filtered into the bedrooms for their final retiring. Both the Wild Geese and Maharajahs alike were half drunk and fully exhausted. While her Captain slept soundly, curled up in his coverlet, Seras couldn't bring herself to his side just yet. For her, the night was still young and she had a strange sensation prickling up and down her spine. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but one of anticipation, of some kind of stirring that made her a little extra aware of her surroundings. The little vampire made her way to the window feeling the stirring of the crisp air, and a shifting in the snow. Shadows morphed and stretched out against the garden, but not in an ominous fashion; instead something wondrous was happening. Outside in the courtyard, the woken dead begun to gather, a soft, luminous glow emanating from each, a golden light cast its warmth against the pallor of the ice and the sound of sighs could be heard. The girl gasped, ran over to Pip, and began to shake him gently.

"Pip, Pip, wake up-you have got to see this!", she exclaimed, but the man merely groaned and buried himself deeper under the covers. With a sudden yank, the bedclothes went flying and the groggy man grumbled and rose slightly.

"What the Hell?!," he mumbled His fiancé had better have a good reason for this- or be naked., other than that he would not be dragging his ass out of bed for anything less than a miracle.

"Honey come over, there's something amazing happening!" she whispered, excitement sparkling in her eyes. The Captain pulled on a shirt and trudged to the bay window. His good eye went wide in disbelief.

"_Mon Deu _," was all he could come up with as each body rose and dissipated into a burst of light. Sounds of laughter and joyous noise filled the atmosphere.

"They're leaving, they're going someplace _wonderful_!" the girl breathed, tears beginning to weld up in her eyes. Captain Bernadette leaned against Seras' shoulder and let out a sigh- he had seen many things in his travels and more than his fare share of strangeness since he had been employed at the Manor, but this, this _was _a truly miraculous sight. The pair watched the rest of the scene in silence as the velvet night filled up with gold fireworks, each soul departing peacefully, never to return.

Meanwhile-

A weary Sir Hellsing patched up her knees and had slipped into a comfortable pair of trousers and a simple, button-down shirt. She slung her hair into a low ponytail, donned her pea coat, grabbed a pair of suitcases, and proceeded down to a waiting car. It was quarter to three in the morning and she was very well aware of the fact that she may have to be carried onto the plane departing for England. Quietly, she exited , only the dull ache in her knees and head reminding her of the fateful events of this not-so silent night. However, she was able to impart some rather useful information to a gentleman and his attendants from the National Bureau of Child Welfare before she left Maximilian Villa. As Integra slipped into the warm interior of her car, her eyes met a familiar smile, rather extended, sharp as ever, yet slightly softer than his usual smirk.

"And where shall we go to, my Master?," the vampire inquired, draping his dress coat around the woman for extra comfort.

"Home, home, hommmmmme" she murmured, buried deep in Alucard's coat and arms.

A Little Latter On-

"I cannot believe this...", Maxwell breathed against clenched teeth as he began to write form after form for St. Augustine's Orphanage. His head was splitting, his lips were bruised, and his pocketbook was being ravaged with each check. His mind was racing- where the Hell were his servants when he needed them? Usually he was bumping into Anderson at every waking moment, and the pair of nuns were nowhere to be found. While a gnawing sensation champed away at his gut, he was sure that the priest would never betray him, but why hadn't he seen him? A few blessed blades and all of this could have been avoided. Meanwhile, in the calm of his study, The Baron put his boots up on the divan, ashed his cigar onto the lush upholstery and began to take a swig from a bottle of Vintage 1892 Port.

"Not bad at all, but I prefer something _softer_.", he stated. Enrico looked up from his paperwork and his jaw dropped

"You're drinking my Port,_ my Puccini Port_, _you son of a bitch!" _The Bishop cursed. The man balled up his fists and picked up a rather heavy glass paperweight, aiming it for the Loa's head, when a knock at the door prevented his violence.

"_Hana-bel arrivata a la Porta, Senor_..." he smirked, blowing smoking rings into the surrounding air. The Arch Bishop quelled his rage, straightened out his priestly garb, and answered the door.

"Yes, hello?", he questioned. A group of men in dark suits were present in addition to quite a number rather upset looking attendees from the convention, including heads of the Jewish, Hindu, and Buddhist sects. A tall gentleman with glasses presented him with an official -looking document and identification.

" Rikki Stevenson, sir. We're from the Bureau of Child Welfare. May we have a word with you?" Maxwell's heart sank. Behind the men, angry whispers came from the crowd.

"Exploiter!" the Rabbi exclaimed with a pointing finger.

"Child Abuser!" a priest stated firmly.

"PUNCH SPITTER!" the Buddhist nun exploded, rushing forwards, anger flashing in her eyes. The men held her back as Rikki and Enrico stepped into the study and closed its solid door, separating the Bishop from the enraged mob.

"Perhaps this is not a good time, you see, I have company-" Maxwell began. The room was now empty for the exception of a drained, green bottle and a smoldering cigar burning a ring into the cushion of the divan....

"For the Love of God" - A little quip from Poe's "A Cask of Amontillaro", a tale of vengeance involving a rather expensive bottle of liquor used as bait, and a live entombment. The antagonist is punished for his mis-deeds by being sealed up alive in a catacomb tomb. He begs for mercy using this phrase as his tormentor places the final brick over his face. I thought it would be a fitting bit of drama -also the drink is mentioned in a previous chapter.

"Hana-bel"- The Baron's take on the little Latin lilte of wisdom.


	48. Chapter 48

Epilogue

As the New Year loomed on the horizon, the household began to flow back into its original pattern of domestic and militaristic affairs. The daily duties of home, heritage, and Hellsing seemed to be ' normal' enough however, while it appeared that the master and her servant were now closer than ever, there was a slight glitch in their newly appointed relationship; ever since they had returned from Italy, the vampire had taken his rest in his master's chamber's but, strictly in the literal sense. There had been no further intimacies since the fateful night at the Maximilian Villa, and the creature was at quite a loss. Other than an affectionate kiss or embrace at bedtime or departing, their meetings were chaste, leaving the poor creature aching for more. Perhaps, his mate was now reconsidering the commitment that she had just made, or was suffering from a great, moral conflict. Alucard attempted to delve into his wife's aura, but it was like diving into sludge- thick, churning, the current ebbing and flowing.

"Do you regret anything?", he asked one night, drawing her into his arms. Integra's body tensed, then relaxed. The woman's heart was heavy, but there was no anger, no resentment in her.

"I regret nothing- I love you dearly, I just have my concerns...."

"About the Council?"

"Please, I have little use for them other than Sir Islands and a few others.," Sir Hellsing scoffed."I could care less about their opinions of me."

"The Queen?" Integra rolled her eyes.

"She was practically trying to betroth us at tea a year ago...."

"Are you in fear of your immortal soul?" he inquired seriously.

"My soul is in fine standing, and I shall pray for yours." Gingerly, she reached up and ran her fingers over his face. A tinge of fear coloured her . Slowly, the vampire probed further into her mind. Alucard pressed his hands at the sides of her temples and closed his eyes, opening his thoughts. Veils of thick mist parted revealing memories, images and tremors . Visions of her past came forwards, playing out like a cinematic. Her family, her mother and father and the glimmer of the life they had before Lady Sheena's death, before Arthur became a quieter, more somber man.

They were a happy, little group laughing, enjoying each other's company, her mother in the foreground, smiling and conducting the household, while a younger image of her daughter at eight or nine trailed behind her lovingly. However, the vision began to shift and merge; instead of her mother's radiant face , a dour group of women appeared, huddling together , whispering and making snide comments.

"_He indulges that woman far too much..." one hissed._

"_I hear the they're even raising up that daughter of theirs to take over the family estate." Disapproval rung out like a harsh bell._

"_Please, that little half-breed girl looks barely capable of doing much of anything..." _

"_Maybe she can marry herself off into another family." _

_The vision of the little girl shifted into that of a young teenager, thin , with blonde hair cascading down her back, eyes brimming with determination. The harpies still remained, though some turned into younger women and a few men surfaced. _

"_Does she really think that she can fill her father's shoes-that's rich!", one bellowed. _

"_Ugh! She's so unattractive- how is she ever going to find a boyfriend looking like that?," another scoffed. The laughter grew bawdy._

"_So skinny."_

"_So plain- isn't there a mirror in her house?" _

"_Hell, I wouldn't shag her for all the Tea in China." a male voice hooted. _

"_I would- the bitch has got a fortune under her belt. Remember, it's the strong, silent types that always melt down the hardest. If she's smart she'd take me up on the proposal-I'm a great catch.... " The face of the adolescent bloomed into a powerful woman, eyes battle-hard, yet compassion still flickered in and out of them. Her hair blew in an invisible breeze , flowing around her like gold fire. The vicious youths had become heads of state, members of the Round Table and even the figure of the Arch Bishop loomed in the background. _

"_While you may be a Knight of Her Majesty's Order, you are still a woman, Integra.", a firm, yet kindly voice boomed." Have you thought of heirs? What would become of the Organization if you were to produce no children?" _

"_I knew that we should have knocked her down a notch- what good will it do to have a woman lead Hellsing- she'll only eventually marry." another commented._

"_God-willing-doesn't she have any idea that she would be more use to us with a marital arrangement to the Wintermyer Family- they have formidable funds that would aid the Hellsing Organization immensely. It would take Integra at least a decade to amass that herself." _

"_Stupid girl doesn't know her place- sit back and let someone else take charge... or if she's smart, she'll lie back and let a real man take over." Their voices were sharp, cruel and mixing into a frenzied noise. Lastly, the form of Enrico Maxwell stepped forwards, leering like a bastard. _

" _I offer you Heaven on Earth, and you reject me- for what? Your power, your 'duty', or him....Go on, GO! Go off and be the Devil's Whore, you filthy, horrid -" _

Integra winched,and began to pull away. Tenderly, the creature kissed her forehead and cheek.

"So, it's not your heart that's really heavy, it's your mind." he stated. "You have a lot of reserves about marriage, don't you?" The woman sighed and then nodded.

"I told you, I would never bind you with ties that you didn't want, or attempt to break you- I don't think I could if I tried."

"I know- I just want these little voices in my head to stop."

"Let me help you with that."

Slowly, her mate leaned in and kissed her, lips brushing tenderly, then deepening. Briefly, she kissed him back, but then pulled away slightly.

"Just give me a little more time..." she said, pecking him on the chin. "I have a meeting at three, get some rest and then I will see you for a late supper, alright?" Alucard nodded, and watched Sir Hellsing's figure retreat out the door. He slowly released a frustrated sigh; he adored this woman and would do anything for her- decimate armies, cross the ends of the Earth , yet right now, the only thing he could do was to stand back, watch, and wait .

"So be it..." he spoke to the empty space." I believe in her fully, I just wonder when she's going to do the same for herself."

Meanwhile-

The little fledgling was so happy to have her masters back. As soon as they both had arrived home, there was a thousand questions, just as many stories to tell., and even a few head pats. While she did not want to say anything, Seras sensed a little something different with Sir Hellsing's scent; her usual bouquet of lavender and tobacco had a slightly deeper, musky edge, like old leather, or the smell of the forest dirt after rain. A tinge of it was her master's but this new fragrance had her bring up a small question to herself-

"_I wonder, if they, you know, while they were in Italy,...." she mentally questioned. _While she attempted to do this without her sire noticing, he managed to catch her and flashed a most seductive smile and the slightest hint of a nod. Apparently, no more needed to be said - the answer was yes-completely, thoroughly and most satisfyingly. Seras would not even dare to breach the subject unless one of her masters mentioned it first.

One early evening, the fledgling stole into her master's chamber to relate the news to him; while they had been progressing, so had she and her Captain. Seras could sense a tense vibration of frustration and restraint, but still a hopeful note blipped up here and there. The Cheshire King sat in his ornate throne, swirling a glass of blood aimlessly, focusing on the liquid so much that he was almost surprised by servant's visit.

"Master? I would like to share something with you-please don't read my thoughts, I'd like to let you know personally." He arched a brow.

"Yes?"

"Captain Bernadette has of proposed to me, sort of. I mean, he'd still like to go over and do it properly and ask some things of you and Miss Integra, but we're just at the stage of figuring out what to do." A concerned look came over her master's face, but it soon began to merge into sly smile.

"So, he does has some honour in him. When did all of this happen, while we were still in Italy?" She nodded. He beckoned her to come closer. Alucard patted his lap, and the girl dutifully knelt and laid her head across it. Gently, he began to stroke her hair; allowing the little vampire to relax.

"You're growing up so fast....", he whispered, as if to a child. He could still sense the essence of chastity on her skin, though now it had a distinct odour of cigarettes mingled into it. "I'll give you my blessing, but there are still many things that you have to learn about our kind-traditions, folk-ways, rituals...they'll seem strange to you and your Captain, but if you wish to be together, you'll both have to come to terms. Do you understand?" The girl 'um-hummed' and snuggled deeper, thoroughly relishing the pressure of sharp nails massaging the base of her neck.

Elsewhere-

Integra massaged the pounding in her temples - the meeting was tremendously dry and she had already spoken her peace. While her thoughts were technically on weapons purchasing,while her stomach twisted into a series of knots. Andrew shot his cousin a glance from across the table, sensing her discomfort. Discreetly, he slipped over to her.

"Need a time out?" he asked. She nodded in return and Lord Hellsing spoke up.

"Gentlemen, I do believe that we need and intermission for a few moments. " In spite of rumblings, the group broke, allowing the pair to exit.

"You don't look good- why don't you give me your paper work and I'll speak for you today?" She began to protest, but common sense griped at Sir Hellsing's head, and she reluctantly handed over the folders.

"Go get some rest," Andrew began, but then he drew close." You're not ill are you?" She shrugged.

" Pregnant?" Integra's brow shot up.

"No- absolutely not! " she retorted.

"Alright, just checking-go on, I'll handle this." The Hellsing Heir took her leave and headed up to her room. She flopped down on her bed, head and stomach spinning. She snuggled up against the pillow, gazing to her left side, usually where Alucard curled his form around hers at night. As much as she wanted his presence right now, she refused to call him; she needed a few moments alone, to think, to calm the churning in her mind. She pulled off her left glove and stared at the ring; she felt happy, whole, contented with the situation, so why couldn't she enjoy it? The other night, she was caught between darkness and light- her heart filled with an unbelievable joy and comfort, but her mind...

She had been on her own for over a decade, battling uphill for control of Hellsing, control of her estate and the constant struggle to prove herself to men that didn't even have half her merit. They had offered the option of marriage again and again, like a plea bargain to a criminal; _"If you were to have a husband, all of this would become so much easier." "If you simple considered Lord Carrington's proposal, it would benefit us all."_ Round and round these words spun, making her ill. But then it dawned on her, she had chosen a mate by her own accord, a fitting man, one who was not afraid of her strength, and respected her weaknesses, a man who adored her like a woman, but honoured her as an equal. This ring was a sign of their bond, not bondage. Integra released a long sigh- she did yearn for her spouse, but it was awfully hard to get randy when your head and heart were in a constant row. She pulled the covers over her, and wished for nothing more than to be dead a sleep.

"_Just give it a little time.," she thought, eyes drooping and shutting. Meanwhile, a dozen blood-red eyes watched over her aching with a tender yearning...._

Sleep would be welcomed right now, but Sister Yumiko was a little too riled up for an afternoon nap. While at first , she thought living here would be a disaster, but even with her hesitations, she was beginning to get used to her surroundings. The room was spacious and comfortable, complete with a huge, four-poster bed, dressers and plenty of space to hang a few pieces of religious art and icons. No one had attempted to convert her, and even the vampire had kept a respectful distance.( However, Yumiko still kept a blessed dagger under her pillow and a few garlic cloves at hand-just in case.) She did miss her sisters and brothers in Christ terribly, not to mention the children. While she had not written any physical mail out as of yet, a few e-mails had been sent to both Father Anderson and a more vague one to Wulf. Perhaps, when the situation calmed itself more, further contact could develop. Perhaps, they would understand her situation, maybe they wouldn't and would now be categorized as the very Heathens that they were meant to _destroy. _The little nun sighed; she would pray on these matters and in spite of the longing in her soul, hoped with all her heart that she would see them again. After all, God brought her here-there was always a divine reason for everything.

Elsewhere-

Maximilian Villa

"Why, why must there be a reason for everything...", Enrico grumbled. Couldn't it just be like the good, old days, where the word of the Church was enough? Reports had to be filled out, explanations written, lawyers contacted, confirmed, and compensated. Technically, the charge of murder could be placed on top of the Arch Bishop's head, but through manipulating the courts with the best of lawyers and the most sincere of speeches, it had been dropped, but not without a price ; he would be sponsoring the damn Orphanage for the rest of his natural life and repaying any surviving members of the Rouge family for his 'negligence'. Hundreds of hours had been put into cleaning up the paperwork and all of the trails that led back to his handiwork. While disaster had been avoided, there were massive bills to be paid off, kinder, gentler press releases to create, and a small, white envelope from Siena that was still yet to be opened. Finally, with a swift slice, the paper split apart revealing simple, printed handwriting and life-changing news.

_Dear Enrico, _

_While it has been s while since I have spoken or seen you, I feel that it is most important to contact you right now. To say that our final meeting was a bit unusual is an understatement. I have been keeping up with the news and I realize that you must be going through so much lately. While I do not wish you misery, I only can pray that you understand that your own actions brought this upon yourself. I hope that these events will help you to understand that your position is to help those round you, care for them and show them the true power of Christ through compassion, kindness, and dignity. In spite of all that has happened between us, I still forgive you and wish you only peace in this time of hardship- may it shape you into a better person, the one that I know you are underneath all of this. _

_In Faith,_

_Marianna De Pasqualle_

_P.S. - I have enclosed a phone number and e-mail address- I do wish to talk to you soon, after all , you are going to be a father..... _

The letter dropped. Great, Good God- when it rained it fucking poured.

_Well, we do have just a little more to go- of should we save that for the next story arc? Give me a heads up on that call- after nearly 50 chapters, my brain is fried! Thank you all for your support- a special thanks to my spouse Tom, dear friends for reading- especially Damien for the added Voodoo ideas and don't worry-we will have a happy ending, and an answer to how to two people play hearts........ _

_P.S. Metropolis Kid- I have been sending you story arcs, but you may have not received them-they are being sent via hotmail from _


	49. Chapter 49

Epilogue 2

It seemed as if the snow would never thaw; thick blankets covered the grounds coating the entire manor in a rich layering of white. Spring crept in like a nervous cat, edging in on its new territory. Skeletal branches began to green and colour the scene once more while dense patches of dark brown earth emerged. The longs months and nights of winter began to warm. Through the comfort of her family, Sir Hellsing's mind began to ease. The every-day living with her vampire changed little, perhaps for the exception of the two finding more and more little reasons to touch, to kiss, and to hold each other close. The great chill between them began to fade. The imps that racked her brain were slowly dwindling, but still, the boundaries had not yet been released to bring back to those long, passionate nights of Italy.

"_What's wrong with me_?," the woman grumbled to her hair brush. The Hellsing heir took out her frustrations on brushing through a few knots, cursing her inhibitions and tangles. He had been a lamb, a darling, doing everything in his power to make her comfortable-even his seductions had been on a level of that of a virgin schoolboy's. She was still very much herself, not broken nor altered by the bridle of bridal , yet found herself yearning, craving their physical relationship like a silly, romantic fool. For a moment, Integra glanced at her bed- the sheets were the same pressed, sensible paisley bedclothes that had adorned her boudoir for the past five years. Perhaps if she changed the room around a bit, brought in some candles, coloured satin sheets, incense…..

"_Lord, I sound like Maxwell…", she chided herself. But, the little voice of seduction did have a point- for years she had slept alone, but now she had opened up her life and bed to Alucard, the least she could do would be to welcome him into it…_

The past few days had been remarkably warm for early April; the hibernating animals had come burrowing out of their winter hiding-places and the snow had given way to buds and blooms. By some miracle, a few, rare Irises began to burst into colour, a vivid pattern of indigo, violet, and brilliant yellow. According to Walter, such an occurrence had not happened in close to twenty years. The entire household took it as a sign of good luck and fortune coming its way upon the manor.

"_May this bring happiness to Integra and Alucard." Walter prayed._

"_Let spring bring joy to Miss Integra and Master." Seras hoped._

"_Bloody Hell, it's about time they shag again and get the production over with.", Andrew sighed. _

"_Please- let them get it on, so I don't lose more fucking cigarettes! " Pip cursed. _

Ah, good intentions- everyone has them , and even the vampire was not beyond such hopes- the past few months had been a trial. While he would never dream of forcing his emotions upon his mate, their period of abstinence was nearly unbearable. A night or so ago, in the midst of all the spring awakenings, she had still refused his amorous gestures. So, Alucard did what any man in love would do; smoke and complain about his station to whom -ever would listen. He rarely did such humane acts, but wasn't everyone allowed a moment of weakness? He had chain- smoked in the gardens with Captain Bernadette * and the two men had spoken through nicotine clouds about how awful and wonderful it was to love someone. It amused the vampire greatly to still feel the underlying uneasiness of the mercenary peeking through, even with his veneer of worldliness. He imagined that with his ward's current turn in their relationship, it was only going to get more awkward.

Elsewhere -

Sienna ,Italy

She felt like an awkward teenager meeting a date as she sat down at the bistro's table. While her morning sickness had been under control for the past month, Marianna felt her stomach twitch as five minutes, then ten passed the appointed time she was going to meet her guest. Perhaps he wouldn't come after all. She ordered a cup of mild, black tea with milk and took off her denim jacket as she spotted a familiar figure making his way through the café. He wore civilian clothes and dark glasses, but the look on his face was at least amicable.

"Um, hello there- sorry I'm late, the traffic was horrible." Enrico stated as he sat down. "This is for you." A single yellow rose was presented on the table. Marianna picked up the bloom and studied it. It was a perfect, butter-yellow rose void of any thorns.

"Is this a peace offering?", she asked good naturedly. Maxwell nodded. For a moment, his eyes swept over her soft face; her hair had grown longer from the time he'd last seen her and her belly was just starting to round with maternity, it's presence making itself known through the light fabric of her blouse.

"In a way, yes. I have let you know what I can and cannot have with you in our relationship , but I do want to be there for you and my child." The girl nodded.

"I understand. " She extended an open palm on the table. Her fairytale dreams had been completely altered, but right now, she had a much more real matter at hand, rather than a happily-ever-after. "I do forgive you." She whispered. He lowered her glasses and peered into her orbs.

"I have no idea why- quite frankly, I wouldn't forgive me." Her small hand closed over his and she looked deep into his eyes.

"Well, I did and now we have to get on with our lives and concern ourselves with the life of our son." Maxwell's eyebrow rose.

"It's a boy? When did you find out?"

"A few days ago . The doctor says he's doing just fine and the due date's sometime in mid August."

"August-that's lucky. They say emperors are born in August."

"How about we let him be a little boy first ." Marianna countered. Her hand his held fast, and the Bishop felt a strange feeling creep over him- it felt almost like friendship…..

She felt strange, as if she was playing a part in a romance novel. The lights had been dimmed, candles lit, and the light aroma of Burgundy and type B filtered with the scent of lavender and vanilla. Integra had faced down generals in warfare, un-dead legions, and took audience with the Queen, yet orchestrating the role of 'wife' was positively nerve-racking. She adjusted the collar of her blouse and left her cravat on the dresser. Though not in satin or lace, or even the eggplant silk dress her spouse seemed to favour so much, she felt comfortable and confidant in a pair of simple, black trousers and a deep crimson shirt. Sir Hellsing took a deep breath and looked at the clock. He was only a few minutes late, but this was unusual for Alucard. Tick, tick, tick- right now her heart pounded drowning out the clock until a slight rap came from the door. Slowly, she opened it slightly, and smiled invitingly at her mate.

"You appear to be taking up more and more mortal traits." She teased. Her vampire stood before her eying the blouse. While she wasn't in a floor length gown or spaghetti straps, the shock of seeing her in an altered palette intrigued him.

"That colour suits you- it looks like a hemorrhage." Sir Hellsing rolled her eyes

"Very romantic. Would you like to come in?" Alucard nodded and entered. The room felt warmer than it had before and the scent of fresh blood and fine wine was delicious. The best aroma however, rolled off his wife's neck and lingered in her hair. She was softer than he had seen her in months, confidant, and the last few edges of her angst had disappeared. They talked and sat next to each other, sipping their drinks , inching closer and closer to one another, until Sir Hellsing paused and settled her glass down.

"May I?", she asked, indicating his lap. The vampire paused, bemused by her nervousness; after all, they had been intimate before, and yet this endearing action made her blush and fidget. Slowly, the woman cuddled into his lap and brought her lips against his throat, bringing shivers down his spine.

"I'll have you know that I've put Captain Bernadette on duty tonight so that there will be no interruptions…", she whispered.

"Really, and what would we be doing for hours and hours that would require my full, undivided attention?" A wicked grin parted her lips as her hands secured his shoulders and her mouth captured his in a passionate kiss. Their actions progressed until the creature scooped his wife up and they piled upon the bed, which Alucard noticed had been very smartly dressed in chocolate-hued satin sheets.

"I thought black would be too morbid and red too tartly." Integra snickered. "Like them?" the vampire nodded and prepared to slide over her form, when she rolled on top of him, pinning him down. Her nimble hands popped open buttons and caressed bare, white flesh, a single nail tracing the pentacle on his belly before burrowing lower. Her eyes never left his, watching the pleasure play over his face. The Cheshire King was speechless- his master was now as fearless in the bedroom as she was on the battlefield. A trail of burning kisses edged down his chest and torso , before pausing over his stomach.

"Close your eyes and think of England*…" Integra breathed before continuing, as his ragged gasps ripped through the air.

Meanwhile-

"I can't believe this…", the fledgling whined. "Of all the nights he had to be sent off!," Seras had pain-takingly laid out an entire supper spread she had cooked herself. It had taken all week to go over her book on French Cuisine and Walter had even helped her go over the recipes for the batter of the dessert crepes.

"Bloody Hell.", she cursed to herself as she sealed up and plastic wrapped the meal. At least they would have left- overs, but of all the nights! The manor was just settling down to a softer pace- Midian activity was lighter in the spring with the elongated hours of sunlight and the dwindling numbers of Indian mercenaries made the place much quieter.(Though she did hate to admit, she was beginning to miss Captain Ari's jokes and stories.) With the dishes cleared, the little vamp began to trudge upstairs; perhaps Christophe or a few of the Geese were up for a game of Checkers or cards- the night was still young and maybe she could enjoy a few hours of time minus the firearms with her comrades. A funny sensation did prick up in the back of her mind.

"_It's nothing,"she thought,"I'm just still upset_…" However, the strange feeling began to grow and spread. As she neared the main floor, her head felt light, as if she had drunk strong liquor. Her breathing became laboured and her chest felt tight. The girl paused for a moment and put a hand over her middle. If she had a heartbeat, it would be racing. Her cheeks flushed and pulsed with an electric heat. A flush of warmth spread through her stomach and started to pool into lower areas. Startled, the fledgling attempted to clear her head and steady herself, but instead a rush of emotions spun through her; bliss, pure, lovely bliss, a delicious consumption of being and body…. Her legs began to give way, and much to her embarrassment, her thighs were slick. As the feelings continued, a clear realization came into her head.

"_Oh, I'm so happy for them…" she managed to think; her masters were contented , whole, and apparently rutting like two cats in heat….. which brought Seras back into her own uncomfortable state of being. As she attempted to calm herself, the fire grew_

"_Oh God, what if I do run into Chris, or Pip-CRAP! Room- I've got to get back to my room before I , do something….." _Her voice of reason began to trail off as her bloodlust and desire for other fleshy releases began to pulse like a neon light. She thought of her chastity, her fine moral character, and the bar of chocolate waiting by the side of her coffin , but her resolve melted under a sentence of five little words spoken behind her.

"Are you alright Miss Victoria?" a kindly voice asked. Walter stood just a few feet behind her, a quizzical look on his face. He might have well as said," _Take me now_." Seras turned , and breathed hard- oh Lord, no, no , no -she couldn't! This was Walter, dear, sweet old Walter who made her breakfast, told her war stories, and served her tea, but in this light, Lord, he was amazing. Even in spite of his age, his face was handsome, and hair thick, his body was trim and lanky and no normal man should be able to move the way he did- like a damn panther. And his smell, his blood smelled like vintage cognac aged to perfection mixed with tea leaves and sugar. It was mouth-watering. Slowly, like a predatory animal, the girl maneuvered in. Her hips swung ever so- slightly and her lips were parted in a come-hither bow.

At first, Mr. Dorneaz thought she was drunk. Seras was still young, and in spite of her attempts to keep up with the boys, she still couldn't hold her liquor was well as she wanted others to believe. He was a bit shocked to see her not at supper with her Captain, but after the last minute requests of Sir Integra, perhaps she was upset at her canceled dinner plans and had downed a few to cool off. Yes, that's what he told himself as she sauntered over with a gleam in her eye that reminded him of how another vampire used to look at him in 1946….

"Are you alright Miss? Can I help you with anything?" he repeated . The girl's eyes were glazed over and the way her body shifted in her blue, dinner dress made Walter uncomfortably aware of her curves. As she stepped into his personal space, her smelled no liquor on her breath, and certainly didn't taste any as she pressed her mouth to his in a kiss worthy of a motion picture ending. The poor man was shocked- he moved his hands in protest, but the poor girl just merely flowed into his arms as if she was made of vapours. So, the retainer did what any decent, red-blooded English man of fine standing and manners would do; he kissed her back.

*Read "My Bloody Valentine" where Pip and Alucard have a little chat to understand that reference.

"Close your eyes and think of England"-When Queen Victoria the first was nervous and curious about her wedding night, this was the only piece of advice her mother could give the jitery, virginal queen. It just seems appropriate that Inrtegra would find a way to mix business with pleasure. :)


	50. Chapter 50

Fin

The night had been thoroughly, completely, excruciatingly draining. The Captain was filthy, covered almost from head to boot in the sticky remains of what had been an entire cove of undead rats. They had been the half-finished meal for a weakling vampire that had been so easily picked off that he almost assumed that it was a late April Fool's Day joke from his bosses. However, it was the vile, left-overs that had really given the troops a run for their money. The little bastards had been too small to shoot, so it made more sense to crush them underfoot and burn the remains. One hell of a night , especially when he was suppose to be home having supper. All he wanted right now was to go back, shower off and pass out against a warm, soft body waiting for him with kisses and a tender smile. It was only quarter to two- Seras would still be up, they could still have a semblance of a night together. The thoughts were smashed by the vibration of a cell phone at his side.

"Hallo?", Pip questioned. The party on the other line was frantic describing how on just the other edge of town a small group of undead cats were spotted eating the remains of what could have been a golden retriever. Of course- the vamps ate the rats, which bit the cats which nipped the dogs- he was in the midst of a freakin' nursery rhyme. The man responded with a groan, a curse, and clicked the device shut. He'd be lucky to get home before sun up at this rate.

"Merde, my work is never done…." He spat.

Elsewhere-

"My work here is done…." The vampire chuckled , sucking in a long drag from the cigar. Its rich, thick smoke filtered up through his nose and rested on the tip of his tongue before drifting out in a thin cloud settling over the half-draped form of his wife. Both of them were spent physically, emotionally, and fully. Integra was lightly dozing with a whisper of a smile on her lips, whilst her mate sat up, finally rewarding himself with a fine, gold-tipped cigar. Even when he was alive, Alucard did not care for such indulgences, however, just this once wouldn't kill him. His smirk broadened- not much could do that any way. Gingerly , he traced a finger over the taut ridge of her narrow hips, curved it down over the bullet-mark on her upper thigh, and maneuvered back up again.

"Poor thing," he whispered," So thin-we'll have to fatten you up with some fine children on your hips…." Sir Hellsing shifted and pulled the covers over her bareness, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like , "Stop smoking all my Wintermans".

The creature laughed pecked her shoulders, and tucked her in deeper.

Meanwhile-

She cuddled in deeper, nuzzling the crook of his neck. While the kissing had stopped when they reached the bedroom, the fierce, passionate _snuggling_ did not. Walter did not try to even remember how long ago it had been since he had last held another human being like this, engulfed in warmth and comfort. She was so soft, so sweet, and Lord forgive him, with her rich curves and cute, little smile, in the right light, she painfully reminded him of his own late wife. Gently, he chucked her under the chin as if she was a kitten.

"Is that good, Lamb?", he asked and the girl responded with a little moan that sounded as if he was stroking far lower than her face. His own cheeks coloured at the response- had he been a rash young man of sixteen or twenty again , they would have been going at it like badgers, but Walter remained respectful; the girl was quite spoken for, and in spite of whatever had swayed her mood to such actions, still chaste. (She had smacked his own wandering hands away when they traveled a bit too near her silk-clad rump.) Also, the thoughts of her fiancé using his back for target practice, or her master gleefully disemboweling him and using his guts for garters were vivid enough to keep this night to a tame level. She pecked fluttery kisses on his forehead and temples, while her dexterous fingers un-knotted his tie and released the buttons of his collar.

"Please," she breathed sweetly, "please, please….." each plea accented by a flick against flesh. Her tongue traced twin marks on the right side of the retainer's neck-ancient craters that pulsed just over the jugular vein. Walter closed his eyes and exhaled.

"It's alright," he replied, his voice half-caught in his throat. "You can take a little…." Miss Victoria brushed her lips over the corner of his mouth before sinking sharp teeth smoothly in. Blood- rich, red and regal coated her palette and the man let slip a soft sigh. The bittersweet pain churned like an electric current , coursing through his spine . Memories spun through his head, splitting open his heart- the strained pleasure, the dark ecstasy and the remembrances of a young girl with ivory teeth and ebony hair who once loved him…

The Next Morning-

Integra awoke to something that smelled like cinnamon heaven. As the Hellsing heir sat up and stretched, she heard the tinkling of china and the clattering of silver ware. Her vampire was balancing a bed tray covered with plates and a steaming cup of tea. Alucard cursed the hot liquid as it splattered against his wrists, but was able to set the tray down without further mess. A plate of waffles smothered in butter, powdered sugar, and strawberries met her gaze in addition to a few thick slabs of ham steak and her beloved Earl Grey.

"And what do I owe the pleasure of this? Is it my birthday again?", she teased. The creature shook his head.

"I just wanted to do something to please you-besides, it's Sunday. You have no meetings, no conferences, so enjoy. " Without further adieu, the woman dug into her meal with relish-apparently good sex got her hungry.

He just paused for a moment and watched her face in the dim, morning light. She slept like the dead and the fact that her chest neither rose nor fell confirmed that thought. Still, she looked so peaceful, so at ease and her cheeks had a bit more of a peach glow to them after her feeding last night. The curtain parted slightly from the breeze, and a sharp beam of sunlight caused Seras to flinch. The sunbeam broadened and the girl whimpered softly.

"Shh, it's alright," Walter comforted as he rose and pulled the draperies shut. He returned and stroked the girl's head soothing her from the harsh awakening.

"Walter?, she questioned. Slowly, Seras gained her composure and sat up. The man smiled at her, dressed snuggly in a set of cotton pyjamas and a deep blue bathrobe. When she looked down, her own supper dress had been replaced by a similar set.

"You stained your dress last night, so I cleaned you up and got you a clean set of bed clothes." He calmly explained. The girl swallowed and looked a bit quizzically at him.

"So, in other words, I slept here, with you, all night, last night?"

"Yes." Seras gulped.

"And we, you, helped me undress?"

"Well, mainly you undressed yourself."

"I, I mean that you and I we didn't- I didn't – oh my Goddddd", she began to wail. "Walter, I am so sorry, I just didn't know what came over me and something in my head just clicked and you were here and I was there and-" A single finger pressed over her lips cut off her rambling.

"Miss Victoria, nothing inappropriate happened between us. You were very much a lady and remained so the entire evening. " Walter smiled and gathered up her hands in his. "You did nothing wrong, if anything, I feel that I was the one who may have gotten you uncomfortable." The girl calmed herself, but noticed the side of his throat; two ragged holes were still coagulating and plum-stained bruised.

"Oh Walter, I'm so sorry.", she apologized, "Do they hurt?"

"Oh these, they're nothing. I'm fine." The fledgling still noticed him wincing when he placed fingers up to touch the wounds. She had drunk his blood last night, reveled in its fine, rare flavour and savoured it like a vintage wine. His memories flooded into hers, including intimate scenes that swelled to the surface.

"Walter, " she asked turning away."How long were you two lovers?" The butler sighed and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Four maybe close to five years, when I was a heated, young bull and he was a beautiful , young girl. It really doesn't matter now, we've past that a long time ago, forgiven and forgotten. We're very different people now, literally." Seras turned and brought her eyes to his.

"Does it make you sad that I remind you of Greta?" Walter sighed and gently stroked her cheek.

"No, not at all. We had good years together and for that I am eternally grateful. You may remind me of her, but you are you, Seras Victoria, and I'm quite glad of that." Tenderly, he kissed her forehead .

"I think that I would have liked her very much." He smiled.

"I know she would have taken to you." There was a beat of silence.

"Walter, do you think that we should let Pip know about the feeding." The older man paused for a moment.

"Well, I will leave that up to your judgment, Miss, but as they say, mum's the word…"

As the day progressed, a lazy calm swept up the house, a rare thing indeed. Papers were read, tea sipped, cigarettes smoked and conversation soft and at ease. Captain Bernadette had finally dragged his carcass in after dealing with one too many of the undead, while Walter reclined in his room for the day claiming malaise. With few servants on Sunday to service, Alucard took the remainders of the breakfast and lunch down to the kitchen himself. On the way, he bumped into his fledgling scurrying about attempting to put a quick plate of food together. Her aura was scattered and her thoughts swirling; she was like a cup of ginger ale today-blonde, bubbly and ready to pop. He silently followed her up the stairs observing every nervous twitch until she parked herself outside the Captain's door. Just as the little vampire was about to knock on the door, a set of long fingers caught her shoulders. The girl let out a surprised speak and spun to see her master.

"And what are we doing up so late, Draculina?" he inquired. His nose picked up a familiar scent, yet he was not expecting it to be on his fledgling. "Wait a moment- what do I smell here?"

"Eggs, bacon??," the girl nervously giggled. On a deeper inhale, Alucard recognized the aroma and a stern look crossed over his face.

"Give me your finger.", he commanded. Obediently, Seras presented him her pointer, which he pricked and tasted.

"Hmm…male, vintage Dutch-Belgium Jew… about eight hours ago…." His eyebrow cocked and he appeared very cross. The little vampire gulped.

"Bad Seras!," he chided, and tapped her nose like a naughty pet's. "Haven't I told you _never _to feed off Walter?"

"I, I know, but last night I wasn't myself, I –"

"I don't care ! He's by far too old and weak to feed off of properly! " her master growled. " _Not to mention, his blood comes with too many memories" his inner voice hissed. _

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please don't tell Miss Integra!" The Cheshire King leaned in, a dangerously playful look spreading over his features.

"You have been very, very naughty, and need to be punished- yes indeed. Wicked Seras, Bad Seras, naughty, evil Seras… you deserve a spanking, a good, hard spanking, and then the oral-" Alucard's rant was cut off by the doorway opening, revealing a disheveled, exhausted looking Frenchman.

"Please tell me that you're only quoting 'Monty Python', right, old man, cause I'm in no mood to kick your undead ass…." He grumbled. The vampire stepped back and bowed graciously.

"Of course," he stated, beginning to dissolve into thin air, leaving only a manic grin behind.

"_Just remember, if you don't want your snacking habits revealed, come down to my chambers later- I', sure we'll work out a suitable punishment." He purred. _Seras ignored her sire's threats and presented the tray to her Captain with a beaming smile. Pip blinked his good eye and managed a grin.

"Breakfast!, she chirped like a cheery canary. The bacon was burnt, the eggs looked rubbery, and the fruit cup was still swimming in its own juices. However, there were a few golden pieces of French toast drizzled with syrup left unmarred. He was delighted.

"Hey, you made it sweet-just like I like it!,"

Elsewhere-

Prince-Au-Port, Haiti

"There you are- sweet just like you like it….", Angelique said quietly to the grave of her husband, pouring the run onto the soil. Rich, red roses festooned the plot, and a few small bouquets and ribbonettes that the orphanage had made were still present. The woman gazed longingly at the marker-even with her near immortality she had gotten used to so many coming and going, but Jacques left with her heart. The last few drops anointed the grave as Mrs. Le Chat smiled softly, bid adieu and made her way back to the children awaiting her return.


End file.
